A Living Hell
by Depp's-Still-Doll
Summary: Lillianna goes to London to escape her past and finds herself living with her cousin and a barber, known as Nellie Lovett and Sweeney Todd. The question is, when these three create a love triangle, who gets the man? Read to find out!
1. Secrets

I stroll down the bustling streets of London, pensively

I stroll down the bustling streets of London, pensively, lost in a world of my own thoughts. The weather reflects my mood: Humid with dark, foreboding clouds subduing the sun, quite in contradiction to what occurred just yesterday.

I had a beautiful home in Newcastle, England with my husband and baby girl. I had gone to the market to restock, but when I returned merely an hour later, greedy flames were devouring my home. I look at the pandemonium around me. I searched the faces with haste to find, much to my dismay that my husband, Gregory and one-year-old daughter, Cassandra were not among the crowd.

I enter my neighbor's house to see if he had taken Cassandra there. They were not present.

"Did you see anything?" I had asked her.

"No, Lillianna," she replied. "Although, just as you left, Charles passed by your yard with a lighted cigar. Nonchalantly, he threw it into the yard. Before anybody knew it, your house was swallowed whole by the hungry fire."

"Whom do you mean by 'Charles'?" I asked warily, dreading the answer I had already guessed.

"Hunnington," she replied with regret.

Charles Hunnington had been betrothed to me three years ago. He did not treat me well. He would drink all the time. Ale, gin, rum, anything with alcohol, he drank. He was a dreadful brute and would beat whenever he wished. I, of course, would have none of it. I was gone faster than he could say, "no".

Although, just before I walked away, he said, "Damn it, Lillianna! You can leave, but know this, my dear: If I can't have you, no man can."

Those words haunted me from that day forward. I had hoped he hadn't meant it, but after the fire, I was not so sure. He had always eyed me lustfully every time we saw each other.

I know that I am beautiful, but I am not vain. From experience, I have found that most men are entranced by my appearance. Everything intrigues them; my chocolate-colored hair, my deep, sensitive, hazel eyes, my caring, yet strong nature, my full lips, and my tanned, thin, curvy, petite figure are the things that attract them like bees to honey.

Earlier today, the firemen didn't want me near the rubble, the remnants of my house, of my life. The reason was, among the burnt timber, they found two charred skeletons entangling with one another: my husband and child.

Apparently, halfway out of the house, Gregory remembered one-year-old Cassandra. He went back into the nursery to get her. As soon as he picked her up, flames blocked the exit. They were trapped and, later, burned.

I had hopped on the first train to the other end of England, never to return to my old world. I come back to the present to escape the horrors.

I turn the corner to Fleet Street. No sign of life is present. I walk more apprehensively, looking for the shoppe for which I'm heading, yet still watching out for anyone who might try and harm me.

I arrive at my destination: "Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies."

I enter to find it absent of customers. The premise is coated with a blanket of dust. A single woman in a dark dress is kneading dough on the counter. Her messy, dark brown hair, which is pulled up, occasionally falls into her path of sight.

Only when my shadow cloaks her, does she look up with a start. Upon seeing my sudden wariness, she pounces, making me even more worried. I try to turn to exit, thinking, _I must be in the wrong shoppe_, but she stops me short.

"Wait! What's your rush? What's your hurry? You gave me such a – fright, I thought you was a ghost half a minute. Can't you sit? Sit you down. Sit! All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer in weeks." Somehow, that doesn't surprise me, considering the looks of the place. "Did you come in for a pie, ma'am?"

I cut her off with a hasty, "No!" She looks a tad crestfallen. "I came to see you, Nellie," I explain.

She becomes suspicious and confused. "How do you know my name?" she challenges.

"Nellie, we're cousins."

It takes a moment, but realization finally crosses her face. "Oh, do forgive me. My head's a little vague. Lillianna Nola, how good to see you! What have you been up to all these past five years? What's happened to you?"

"Well…" The moment my mind wanders to yesterday's happenings, my heart rips and tears. "I'd-I would rather not talk about it at the moment."

"What's wrong, love?" she asks considerately.

"My heart has yet to recover. I will tell you the story when my heart is whole again," I answer solemnly.

"Oh, did someone break your little heart?"

"In a way, Nellie. I have run away to find refuge here with you. Please? I hate to intrude, but I must stay away from Newcastle, if at all possible. Might I stay here, lest the shadows of the past few days follow me? I'll work for you in the shoppe, make it more hospitable, help you pretty it up," I offer.

"Lillianna, Lillianna, please, you're always welcome here, dearie. You don't mind staying upstairs, do you?"

"Of course not. Why?" I ask a bit suspicious of Nellie's tone.

She is about to say something, but decides against it. "I'll tell you another time, dearie. It's probably too soon for you. In the mean time," she says, perking up immensely, "You look as if you haven't eaten in a week. How about one of your cousin Nellie's meat pies?"

"No!" I shout hastily. She looks at me, disgruntled and I shoot her an apologetic expression. "I need to go to town. As you can see," I hold my hands out to show her the absence of a suitcase, "I haven't any gowns. I'll even pick up some supplies for you."

"Thank you, love."

I make a trip to the square and return, my arms laden with bags. Nellie makes haste to help me with my burden. After the groceries are in their places, I offer to help clean the shoppe.

"No, no, no," Nellie objects, "You need to eat and put your things away. By the time you're done with that, it will be late and you'll be plum-tuckered out. Here. I'll get you some biscuits and tea. When you're finished with those, I'll show you to your room."

I eat the biscuits and drink the tea and attempt to put away the tray and cup, but Nellie protests, saying, "No, no, love. Leave it to me. You've done enough work already."

She then shows me to my new room and I question as to the door opposite mine. "To what room, may I ask, does that lead to, Nellie?"

She turns to see what I am referring to and her eyes widen in shock. "You shan't worry about that door. I don't want you going in there. It was a dear friend's room."

Assuming that the said friend passed away and that she merely does not want me to disturb the memory, I heed her word for the time being.

After I put my things away, I follow my nightly routine and clamber into bed. I lay awake for a moment, awaiting the time when sleep will overtake me. It does not engulf me swiftly. I stare out my window to seethe black velvet sky, sprinkled with diamonds.

A foreboding feeling comes over me, swallowing me whole as my mind wanders back to the forbidden door. My instincts tell me that something is coming. There are secrets behind that door, and I intend to find out what those secrets are.


	2. Stranger

**Sorry every one! I know this took a long time to get up, but my beta reader has been OOA (out of action) for a while. Plus, she had other more important things to do, and I fully understand. I hope you do too. To make up for it, this chapter is almost twice as long as the last and it covers every thing from "Worst Pies in London," up until, "Greenfinch and Linnet Bird." I hope everyone enjoys it! Both my beta-reader and I hope the updates can come quicker from now on. I know we will try. Thank you every one for your patience!**

* * *

The next day, I work laboriously in the bake house for hours. I wipe my brow and sigh heavily as I finish scrubbing the floor. I hear Mrs. Lovett talking to some one upstairs. I ascend the steps and exit the door.

Mrs. Lovett is singing to a pale, thin, yet muscular man with jet-black hair. What intrigues me most about this man is the shock of white running through his midnight black hair. "Is that just revolting?" Nellie asks the strange man. "All greasy and gritty? It looks like it's molting and tastes like-" She stops herself. "Well, pity a woman alone with limited wind and the worst pies in London!" She sighs heavily. "Ah, sir. Times is hard. Times is hard!" She spies a bug crawling on the counter top, picks up her rolling pin and squishes it.

_"I wonder how many times _that _has happened," _I think to myself.

The man takes another sip of his ale, trying to wash the horrid taste out. "It'll take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out, dearie. Come on, I'll get you a nice tumbler of gin, eh?" Nellie suggests. She starts to lead him to the other room when she spots me in the door way to the bake house. "Oh, Lillianna, I didn't hear you come up. "Yes, moments ago."

"It looks like you're not completely alone," the man states, his deep, dark eyes penetrating my hazel ones. The comment is directed to Nellie, yet his eyes never break their hold with mine.

"Yes, well, I just came here yesterday," I explain, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. "My name is Lillianna Nola."

"Why? Shouldn't you be back home with your mum? You're too young to be away from home," the strange man states.

I may be small and young looking, but this man needs to know who exactly he is dealing with. "I'll have you know," I say, my voice icy and defiant, "I'm much older than I look. I have a loving husband and a beautiful dau-" At length, my memories and tears consume me. I turn so Nellie and the man do not see.

Too late. Nellie sees me and, being one of a caring heart, comes over to comfort me. The stranger looks on a bit uncomfortable before regaining his composure.

"Now, now, dearie. There, there. What are you crying about? I didn't know you got married. When? Shouldn't you have a different surname, then?"

"It's nothing. It's nothing. I'll tell you later, Nellie. Don't mind me," I assure them.

The man looks at me inquiringly before following her to the other room. He looks longingly up the internal stairs, reminding me of a lost puppy. "Isn't this homey, now. The cheery wallpaper was a real bargain, too," she adds, pouring him a glass of gin. "It was only partly singed when the chapel burnt down." She hands the glass to him and instructs him to sit.

"You have a room over the shop, don't you? If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out?" the man suggests.

"What? Up there? Oh, no one will go near it." Nellie turns to him. "People think it's haunted."

"Haunted?" he inquires.

"Yeah. Who's to say they're wrong? You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice." She sits down across from him and informs me that what she is about to say is what she wouldn't tell me yesterday about the forbidden room. She begins to sing and the stranger enters a sort of trance, looking ahead unseeingly, entranced by the story. "There was a barber and his wife and he was beautiful. A proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life and he was beautiful.

Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker," she tells us.

"What was his crime?" asks the man still in his trance.

"Foolishness," she replies before continuing the song. "He had this wife, you see. Pretty little thing, silly little nit, had her chance for the moon on a string. Poor thing. Poor thing.

"There was this judge, you see. Wanted her like mad. Every day he sent her a flower, but did she come down from her tower? Sat up there and sobbed by the hour. Poor fool. Ah, but there was worse yet to come. Poor thing.

"Well, Beadle calls on her all polite. Poor thing. Poor thing. The judge, he tells her, is all contrite; he blames himself for her dreadful plight. She must come straight to his house tonight. Poor thing. Poor thing.

"Of course when she goes there, poor thing, poor thing, they're having this ball all in masks. There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing. She wanders, tormented, and drinks, poor thing! The judge has repented she thinks, poor thing. 'Oh, where is Judge Turpin?' she asks. He was there, all right, only not so contrite.

"She wasn't no match for such craft, you see, and every one thought it so droll. They figured she had to be daft, you see. So, all of them stood there and laughed, you see. Poor soul! Poor thing!"

"No!" the man screams, jumping up from his seat. Mrs. Lovett and I are taken aback at his sudden outburst. "Would no one have mercy on her?"

"So, it is you, Benjamin Barker," Nellie says, awestruck after finally piecing it together.

"Where is Lucy? Where is my wife?" Again, the sad look on his face is one of a lost puppy. I feel an impulse to wrap my arms around him and comfort him, but I refrain from doing so.

"She poisoned herself," Nellie explains. "Arsenic from the apothecary around the corner." She looks away, as if contemplating what to say next, as if she is choosing her words carefully, although she was being very blunt only a second ago. "I tried to stop her," she says, lowering her head trying to look remorseful, but I see in her eyes no repentance, "but she wouldn't listen to me, and he's got your daughter"

"He? Judge Turpin?" he mutters, as viable anger bubbled inside him.

"Adopted her like his own."

"Fifteen years I've sweated in a living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming I might come home to a wife and child."

"Well, I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker," Nellie admits, standing up, also.

"No, not Barker. It's Todd, now, Sweeney Todd and he will have his revenge."

"Wait, I don't understand," I interject. "So, you're the man in the story?"

"I was, but fifteen years in a living hell does things to you," Sweeney mutters darkly.

"Wait! I know something that'll cheer you up, Mr. T. Come with me."

Nellie leads us up the external stairs to the second floor, the room opposite mine. She unlocks the door and enters, me, right behind her. Mr. Todd enters more cautiously, looking from the outside at the rundown place. The previously cheery, green and yellow striped wallpaper is tearing and peeling. The room is coated with a thick layer of dust. The room is pretty much bare except for two chests filled with old clothes, a vanity, and a clothed crib. Nellie and I turn to see Sweeney looking scared and unsure.

"Come in," Nellie invites, coolly. "There's nothing to be afraid of, love."

He carefully enters and heads toward the crib. He lifts up the dust-covered cloth that is draped over it as Mrs. Lovett stands back and watches him. Mr. Todd sees a decomposing doll that he had given his baby girl before he was sent away. I come up behind him gently, noticing a mourning look on his face.

"Do you think it too bold for me to ask what was your little girl's name?" I ask compassionately.

"Johanna. Her name was Johanna." His voice cracks on the last word.

"Such a beautiful name," I compliment.

"For a beautiful little girl." Our shared trance is broken when Nellie wipes dust off of an old floorboard and taps it. Sweeney replaces the cloth and heads over to inspect what Mrs. Lovett is doing. She lifts the board and brings out a mass of red velvet from the dark hole. She places it on the floor in front of her and unwraps the dark red velvet from an elaborate, dark wooden box. She hands it to Sweeney as he kneels down to examine it.

"When they came for the girl, I hid them," she says. "I could have sold them, but I didn't." Mr. Todd raises the lid of the box to reveal 7 razors.

"Oh, them handles is chased silver, ain't they?" I ask in awe. I simply stare at the shining, ornate implements seeing the sun glint off of the surprisingly clean surface, the only clean thing I have seen on the premises, I might add.

"Silver. Yes," he whispers ever so softly. He carefully picks out the razor closest to him and sets the box down. "These are my friends. See how they glisten," he sings, twirling the razor between his precise fingers. He opens it and admires the blade fondly. "See this one shine, how he smiles in the light: my friend, my faithful friend." He stands and walks to the other side of the room. He holds the razor to his ear, listening intently. "Speak to me, friend. Whisper, I'll listen." He holds it back out. "I know, I know, you've been locked out of sight all these years like me my friends." Nellie stands and approaches him extremely slow, trying to not alarm him. "Well, I've come home to find you waiting." He swings the razor out and around, in a trance of sorts, completely oblivious to Mrs. Lovett and I. "Home, and we're together and we'll do wonders, won't we?" He brings the razor back in front of him. Out of nowhere, he pulls another razor out, unsheathing the sparkling blade. "You there, my friend."

Nellie begins to sing softly, breathing in the sweet smell of his hair. "I'm your friend, too, Mr. Todd."

"Come, let me hold you."

"If you only knew, Mr. Todd," she coos into his ear.

"Now, with a sigh you grow warm in my hand."

"Ooh, Mr. Todd. You're warm in my hand," Nellie sings, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"My friend!"

"You've come home!"

"My clever friend," Sweeney swoons, looking back at the first razor.

"Always had a fondness for you I did," Nellie admits. Sweeney is ignorant of her declaration and returns the second razor to the case. He quickly kneels before the case, Nellie right behind him. I kneel also, starting to raise my own voice in chorus with Sweeney.

"Rest, now, my friend," he instructs to the shining piece of silver.

"Never you fear, Mr. Todd," I assure him.

"Soon, I'll unfold you," he promises.

"You can move in here, Mr. Todd," I suggest.

"Soon you'll know splendors you never have dreamed all your days!"

"Splendors," I agree, "you never have dreamed all your days will be yours."

"My lucky friends!"

"I'm your friend and you're mine. Don't they shine beautiful?" I ask, mesmerized by the cold, silver object.

"'Till now your shine was merely silver." Nellie finally kneels next to him, her mouth not even an inch from his ear, and yet he still manages to stay in his trance.

I notice he slightly moves the angle of the razor so he sees me in the reflection of the blade. "Friends."

"Silver's good enough for me, Mr. Todd," I sing sweetly.

"You shall drip rubies. You'll soon drip precious rubies."

Slowly, he turns the razor to see Nellie on his other side. He is startled at her presence and looks to her. "Leave me," he whispers.

Nellie does not hesitate to obey. I, however, wish to stay. Unfortunately, it is not an option as Nellie grabs my arm and continues to drag me outside. She shuts the door behind us. As she descends the steps, I linger at the window and look in to see Sweeney rise and hold his razor to the slanted window on the other end of the room. His moving lips tell me he is saying something, but the thin, closed door is enough to block his words.


	3. Elixir

After I wake the next morning, I head down stairs to get some breakfast. As I reach the last stair, I see Nellie and Mr. Todd talking. Seeing as they show no acknowledgment to my presence I listened in, unnoticed.

"I know just what to do," Nellie says. "To start, how about I take you to the market? This barber, Pirelli - all the rage, he is - comes there every Thursday. You could challenge him, or something, so as to get people to notice that there's a new barber in town. It's perfect to help you get recognition - without being caught, mind you - and then customers will soon be lining up, waiting eagerly for a shave, the Judge with the lot of them. Great way to put the plan into action, no?"

"What plan?" I ask. They look at the disruption in surprise, thinking that they were the only ones up at that hour. "Oh, the Judge," I answer myself as I recall yesterday's happenings.

"Oh, Lillianna, you're up. I didn't hear you come down. Mr. T and I were just about to go to the market," she explains, ignoring my question. "Would you like to join us?" she adds.

"Sure," I reply. It looks as if Sweeney is about to object, but thinks better of it and closes his mouth. I scamper up the stairs after grabbing some tea. I hate to say it, but I don't trust my cousin's cooking, so I quickly wash down the counter and bake myself some rolls, also. I dash back to my room to get dressed.

I dress in one of my finest gowns that I had bought two days ago. It is a black velvet dress with a V-cut waist. It fits to my every curve. The exposing corset is of a rich red with gold strings. It just barely touches the ground. The sleeves fit to my arms, but flare out just beneath my elbow in two layers, the bottom being red velvet, the top being black sheer. I think it's beautiful.

I pair it with a thick, black lace choker with three, small, diamond shaped onyxes dangling, a large, teardrop-shaped ruby dropping down from the middle gem. I descend the stairs and see Nellie and Sweeney waiting for me at the door.

"Are you ready?" Nellie asks, handing me my cloak. I slip it on while nodding my head. I look over to see Sweeney looking at me with slightly widened eyes and his mouth ajar. He sees I caught him staring and he faces straight ahead. He closes his mouth. His features harden and I begin to wonder if he was looking at me or not, for he looks as if he is a statue, stuck in the same position for eternity.

We walk down Fleet Street to St. Dunstan's Market. Slightly ahead of me, Nellie leans over to Sweeney discreetly.

"I'm not entirely sure about this anymore," she whispers into his ear.

"You were the one who suggested it in the first place!" he hisses back, outraged at how she's trying to back out of her own plan.

"What if the Beadle recognizes you? He's sure to be there," she warns.

"All the better," he mutters satisfactorily with a small smirk.

"Mr. T, do you want to be caught?"

Ignoring her question, he asks, "Are you sure this other barber will be here?"

"Positive. He's here every Thursday. Italian. All the rage, he is. Best barber in London, they say."

I feel indignant at how they are conversing as if I am not even there. Just as I'm about to remind them of my presence, we come across a stage with posters describing a certain "Pirelli's Miracle Elixir."

Mr. Todd spies spots something in the distance. I follow his gaze to a portly man in a suit and top hat. Something about this man is known to me. As he nears us, I see more of his features. He has long, golden hair down to his shoulders, dark, beady eyes and a pompous, greedy smile.

I freeze in horrid recognition.

Mr. Todd carefully moves his hand to the razor in the holster around his waist and steps forward, snarling. I can tell he wants nothing more than for this man to fall, spurting blood, to the ground and to stand above him covered in blood with a smug look of satisfaction plastered on his face.

"Hang on," Mrs. Lovett warns, placing a hand on his, holding him back. Sweeney resigns to remove his hand from his side.

We hear movement and turn our eyes to the stage. A boy comes out and begins to bang a drum and sing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention puh-lease? Do you wake every morning in shame and despair to discover your pillow is covered with hair? Or what ought not be there? Well, ladies and gentlemen, from now on you can waken at ease! You need never again have a worry or care. I will show you a miracle marvelous rare. Gentlemen, you are about to see something what rose from the dead - on the top of my head!"

The boy dramatically rips off his hat to reveal light blond hair that falls to his shoulders. "'Twas Pirelli's Miracle Elixir. That's what did the trick, sir. True, sir, true." He takes two bottles from the side of the stage, gives one to a man in the front row, and throws the other into the crowd. "Was it quick, sir? Did it in a tick, sir. Just like an Elixir ought to do. How about a bottle, mister? Only costs a penny guaranteed." He grabs another bottle and pours some on a bald man's head. He grabs the man's hand and forces him to rub it in his scalp.

"Does Pirelli's stimulate the growth, sir?" The man smells his hand and brings it away, as if it smells repulsive. The boy grasps his hand once more and continues to make the man rub his head. "You can have my oath, sir, 'tis unique. Rub a minute, stimulating, isn't it? Soon you'll have to thin it once a week!"

A man standing next to Nellie gets the other bottle passed to him. He opens it, and Sweeney knows just what to do. "Pardon me, ma'am, what's that awful stench?" He asks, turning to Mrs. Lovett. The boy's head snaps to the disruption and gets annoyed.

"Are we standing near and open trench?" she inquires back. She then turns to the man with the bottle and questions, "Pardon me, sir, what's that awful stench?"

Not wanting to feel left out, I join in by asking Mr. Todd, "Are we standing near an open trench?" He seems slightly surprised, probably having momentarily forgotten my presence, again, but, soon, a slight smirk appears on his lips.

Hearing this disturbance, the boy continues singing, holding up the bottle all proper-like and displaying it to the audience. "Buy Pirelli's Miracle Elixir. Anything what's slick, sir, soon sprouts curls." He twists a lock of blonde hair to press his point. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sweeney smell the "Elixir". He sharply pulls away, a look of disgust on his face. The aroma wafts to me and I feel as if I am about to vomit.

"Try Pirelli's. When they see how thick, sir, you can have your pick, sir, of the girls! Want to buy a bottle, missus?" He gives a bottle to a woman in the first row.

"What is this?" Sweeney asks.

"What is this?" Nellie inquires, grabbing the bottle.

Sweeney Todd takes a quick sniff of the golden liquid and states, "Smells like piss."

Nellie sniffs also. "Smells like-ew!" She leans over to the man beside her and warns, "I wouldn't touch it if I was you, dear." I hand it back to Sweeney. Clearly trying to make a riot, Mr. Todd corks the bottle of elixir and continues chanting, "Looks like piss. This is piss, piss with ink." He seems proud of his work.

"Let Pirelli's activate your roots, sir," the boy continues desperately after grabbing the bottle back from the woman.

"Keep it off your boots, sir," Sweeney interjects, warning the man next to Nellie and handing him the bottle. "Eats right through."

"Just get Pirelli's. Use a bottle of it. Ladies seem to love it!"

"Flies do, too!" Mrs. Lovett and I chorus. The crowd erupts into thunderous laughter. The boy appears terrified while Sweeney, Nellie, and I look proud of our work.

All of a sudden, a lavishly dressed Italian man pops out of the caravan. He has a skintight blue bodysuit with an elaborate cape.

"I am Adolfo Pirelli, the king of the barbers, the barber of kings," he announces. "E boun giorno, good day. I blow you a kiss." He does so. "And I, the so famous Pirelli, I wish-a to know-a who has-a the nerve-a to say my elixir is piss. Who says this?"

After a moment, Mr. Todd opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I do!" Both men look at me, surprised, but I ignore them and hop onto the stage boldly. I stare confidently at the colorfully clothed man before me. Something appears to peak his interest.

"And who might this-" He places a hand underneath my chin and tilts my head so as to examine me further. "-lovely little flower be?"

I am appalled and do the only thing I can do in this position: I twist my head out of his grasp and quickly bite his hand…hard. I glare at him for a moment before turning to the vast crowd.

My eyes land again on the oddly familiar, portly man Mr. Todd and I had seen earlier. I quickly lie. "I am Miss Jasmine Churovia of Fleet Street. I have opened this bottle of Pirelli's Elixir and I say to you that it is nothing but an arrant fraud…concocted from piss and ink."

Pirelli looks disturbed and annoyed, but I continue. "Further more 'Signor,' I know a barber who may not have serviced any kings, yet I'll wager he can shave a cheek with ten times more dexterity than you or any other street mountebank." Pirelli tries to fake smile, but his attempts fail miserably.

"Whom is this-a man you-a speak of?" he asks, not entirely convinced.

"Why, Mr. Sweeney Todd of Fleet Street. Who else?" Mr. Todd clamber onto the stage. He gives me a small shadow of a smirk before turning to his competition.

"And how might you know one another?" he inquires skeptically with lust in the dark eyes that dart between Sweeney and myself. Pirelli gives me a small - what he would think as sexy - smile. I, once again, hold back the vomit that had started to crawl back up my esophagus.

"We're engaged to be married," Sweeney, answers, glaring slightly. My eyes dart to him in surprise. I quickly glance at my left hand.

_Good. My rings are still - oh, shit! The wedding band!_

I subtly slip off the wedding ring and drop it into my dress pocket. Pirelli spots the movement. I display the diamond ring Gregory had given me and his eyes show a slight disappointment.

Todd then pulls out two razors and holds them high, displaying them to the crowd. "You see these razors?"

"The finest in London!" I exclaim to the interested throng.

"I lay them against 5 pound. You are no match, sir." Pirelli leans forward to examine one of the razors in Todd's hand. Sweeney continues, "Either accept my challenge, or reveal yourself as a sham."

Pirelli smiles and straightens up. "You hear this foolish-a couple? Now, please, you will see how they will-a regret-a their-a folly!" He twirls his purple cape around extravagantly. "Toby!" he beckons, pounding a staff on the stage for every syllable.

"Who's for a free shave?" Sweeney asks the eager crowd. As Toby assists us, Nellie removes Sweeney's black jacket and gives him the essentials. Two men, both in desperate need of a shave, sit in the chairs. "Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?"

"Glad, as always, to oblige my friends and neighbors," replies the familiar, stout man in a nasally tone.

I sit center stage, in the chair Toby brought out to me, watching the contest from behind. I sit patiently as memories rush back to me.

A shrill whistle snaps me out of my thoughts. Pirelli rushes to sharpen his razor.

Apparently, Pirelli has no respect for anyone but himself. As the razor would glide back and forth, he doesn't seem to care when it would slash the boy's knuckles. When he is finished sharpening the blade, I call the boy over to me and deftly and swiftly bandage the cuts.

"Thank you ma'am," he states as I finish, "but I must go to help Pirelli further, or it's a good lashing." He hurries off to clean his razor after every other stroke. Pirelli starts to sing about his technique and how he shaved the pope.

_Self-centered pervert._

As I turn to face Sweeney, he is just starting to lather his man. I grow more and more anxious as Sweeney simply analyzes the man and Pirelli holds out an insanely high, long note. Quick as a flash, Sweeney shaves the man before him in only a few strokes. The Beadle inspects the job and declares that Mr. Todd is the winner.

I stand and stride over to Mr. Todd and congratulate him. He gives me a shadow of a smile.

"How about a congratulatory kiss?" an obnoxious voice from the crowd calls.

I ask if it's all right with my eyes. Without giving me an answer, he leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek. He pulls away and the spot where his lips had met my flesh erupts into flames.

The same person and a couple of his friends get agitated. "Rip off!" they shout. "Give her a real kiss!"

I look into the crowd and spy Mrs. Lovett glaring daggers at us. I make a mental note to apologize to her afterwards.

I turn back to Mr. Todd, who appears passive. He unwraps his left arm around my waist and the other cradles my cheek. I feel his soft lips land on mine.

I place my hands seductively on his strong chest as he pulls me close. I'll admit, I kind of like it. I smile slightly into the passionate embrace, smelling the sweet honey smell emanating off of him. His hand slowly slides off my cheek and down to my neck. My stomach flip-flops and I feel lightheaded. I haven't felt these things since Gregory, so why am I feeling this now?

All too soon, it ends. Sweeney pulls away and manages to look nonchalant.

Pirelli walks to us. I stand on the other side of Sweeney - further away from the Italian! "Sir, I bow to a skill far greater than my own," he marvels, bowing.

"The 5 pound?" Pirelli reluctantly reaches for his purse and hands Mr. Todd the money. I entwine my fingers with his; there is something about this Pirelli fellow that gives me the chills.

"May the good Lord smile on you…and your betrothed," he adds, smirking at me. Sweeney shifts ever so slightly in front of me. I gently squeeze his hand in a silent, _"Thanks"_. "Until we meet again," Pirelli continues. "Come, boy, come." He proceeds to kick and beat the poor lad into the caravan.

We join Mrs. Lovett, who immediately begins talking. "I suppose it's just my gentle heart, but I do hate to see a boy treated like that," she says, stowing his things away and putting on his black jacket.

"Congratulations Mr. Todd," a man addresses. "May I ask you, sir, do you have your own establishment?"

"He certainly does!" Mrs. Lovett intervenes. "'Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor', above my meat pie emporium in Fleet Street."

Sweeney heads over to the Beadle. I follow. "I thank you, sir," he says. "You a paragon of integrity."

The Beadle fails miserably at an attempt to look modest. "Well, I do try my best for my friends and neighbors," he brags. "Your establishment is in Fleet Street you say?"

"Yes, sir," Sweeney replies.

"Then, Mr. Todd, you shall surely see me there before the week is out," he responds.

"You will be welcome, Beadle Bamford." He turns to go, but Sweeney stops him. "I can guarantee," Mr. Todd continues, "to give you, without a penny's charge, the closest shave you will ever know." Only Nellie and I are aware of the note of menace in his voice but the beadle remains oblivious.

The Beadle smiles and puts a finger to his hat in gratitude and walks away successfully. "Come on, love," Nellie says, turning us around and making us walk in the opposite direction, to home, where I know questions will be asked.


	4. Past

Chapter 4 – Past

Chapter 4 – Past

We all enter Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie shoppe and Nellie finally snaps.

"What was that about?" she questions accusingly.

"What do you mean?" I inquire.

"You," she says, pointing a shaky finger at me, "for lying about your identity, and you," she continues, pointing the finger more steadily in Todd's direction, "for lying about your relationship!" I hear in her tone that she is somewhat jealous.

"Nellie, I had to-"

"Nonsense!" Sweeney turns towards the window and begins his regulatory brooding. "Now," Nellie grabs my arm and shoves me into a booth. She then slides in across from me. "Start explaining."

"You see, I was betrothed three years ago," I say, desperately attempting to hold back the oncoming flow of tears. "The man's name was Charles Hunnington. He always looked so handsome with his perfectly coiffed, golden hair, dazzling, yet greedy smile, and dark eyes. Later, I found out what a brute he really was. The reason for why I lied was that I recognized the Beadle." I see Sweeney's eyes briefly dart in my direction at the name, but I ignore it. Although, I could have sworn there was a hint of sympathy in them. "I remember Charles boasting about how he had a cousin with that profession. It really scared me when I saw the Beadle. They have the same superior, evil air about them, the same smile, the same hair color, the same eyes; the likenesses frighten me."

Nellie's eyes soften as she accepts my excuse. "Well, you won't have to worry. You're away from Newcastle and Mr. T will soon take care of Beadle Bamford. You can be sure of that," my cousin reassures me.

"Speaking of Mr. Todd, why did you say that we were engaged to be married?"

His head fully snaps to me as he hears my voice addressing him. "Dunno."

"You have to know. What was that all about?" I press.

"When – when Pirelli looked at you, it reminded me – it – it took me fifteen years back. I felt like I was with Lucy again – " I see Nellie roll her eyes subtly at the "wretched" name, Mr. Todd, however, does not spot the movement. " – and Pirelli was the Judge. It just came out. It didn't mean a thing," he adds.

"And the kiss?" I inquire further. He looks at me oddly. "It felt as if-" I stop myself and rethink my words so as not to offend him. "-As if you sort of cared for my well being. Not as cold and harsh as you seem to be."

For a quick second, I think he smirks at me, but as quickly as it appears, it vanishes. Instead, he scoffs lightly. He looks at me blankly and states in a dead, monotone voice, "It's called acting, love." He turns and heads upstairs without another word. Apparently, I'm not going to get more out of him on that subject.

"What are you implying by that?" I look at Nellie with a confused expression. "I knew you were going to say something else about that kiss."

"I wasn't implying anything," I respond, standing up and starting to head towards my room.

"I have a feeling that you're getting attracted to Mr. T."

"I am not," I object, calmly.

"I can tell. You liked that kiss and from the supposed sweetness of it, you assumed that he fancied you, as well. You thought he was starting to love you. Well, you're sadly mistaken. I hate to disappoint you, Lillianna, but he hasn't loved anyone since Lucy. You're hanging onto something that will never be, a false hope. Get over it before you get hurt."

_"What about you?"_ I wanted to shout. _"Don't think I don't see _you_ swooning over him. Do _yourself_ a favor and listen to your _own_ advice!"_ I hold my tongue instead. I go to my room, change out of my formal attire and into something more casual, and get to work on making the shoppe a bit more habitable.


	5. Waiting

Days passed since our little trip to the market and, soon, it was Tuesday. Sweeney seemed restless, pacing his shoppe non-stop. Mrs. Lovett and I searched the premises for a suitable chair for him.

We finally find a chair that belonged to Mrs. Lovett's deceased husband, Albert. We set it in the middle of the bare room.

Sweeney stared out the window, sharpening his already deadly razor. I look at the picture of his wife and child while Nellie sits in the chair, informing him of the chair's history.

"Why doesn't the Beadle come?" Mr. Todd asked, his gruff voice breaking through my trance. Both Nellie and I looked at the disgruntled barber. "'Before the week is out.' That's what he said."

"Well, who says the week is out? It's only Tuesday," I comfort, placing a hand on his back. He glares, shrugs my hand off and throws the sharpening block he was using across the room with a loud bang. He stormed to the mirror. I came up behind him cautiously. "Easy, now. Hush, love, hush," I sang, my voice light and soothing. "Don't distress yourself. What's your rush? Keep your thoughts nice and lush. Wait. Hush, love, hush. Think it through. Once it bubbles, then what's to do?" Sweeney held his razor up and examined the shine. My eyes darted to the shine, but I decided he wouldn't hurt me…yet. "Watch it close, let it brew, wait." The impatient barber stalked off to the small window next to the vanity. I watched him, feeling helpless.

Nellie cut in front of me, next to the chair, wringing a rag in her small hands. "I've been thinking flowers," she interrupts, trying, not only to calm him down, but also to take his mind completely off his plan of revenge.

_"Like that's ever going to happen."_

"Maybe daisies to brighten up the room. Don't you think some flowers, pretty daisies, might relieve the gloom? Ah, wait. Love, wait."

Sweeney opened his razor. Transfixed in its hypnotic gleam, he questions, "and the Judge? When will we get to him?" He walks out of the shoppe and onto the balcony. Lovett followed.

"Can't you think of nothing else? Always brooding away on your wrongs and what happened heaven knows how many years ago? Come on." She pulled him inside again.

While she back tracked to shut the door, I took Sweeney away from her. "Slow, love, slow," I continue, "time's so fast, now goes quickly. See? Now it's past!" I guided him into the barber chair. "Soon will come, soon will last. Wait." I knelt next to him, staring intently. "Don't you know, silly man," his eyes dart to me at my foolish comment. Thankfully, he doesn't think much of it. "Half the fun is to plan the plan. All good things come to those who can wait."

Nellie comes up behind me as he looks to his razor. She positions her arms in such a way as to make it look like she's thinking hard. "Gillyflowers maybe, 'stead of daisies. I don't know, though. What do you think?" His only response is a maniacal grin as the razor's gleam danced in his eyes.

Hurried footsteps pounded up the old stairs, pulling Sweeney from his thoughts. He got up and ran to the door. He flattened himself against the wall as a brunette boy in his – late teens, early twenties, I'm guessing – bursts in, yelling.

"Mr. Todd! Mr. Todd! Oh," he says, spotting Nellie and I. I rose. "I'm sorry. Excuse me."

"Mrs. Lovett, sir," Nellie introduced herself in a flat tone, "and my cousin, Ms. Nola."

"Anthony. A pleasure, ma'am. Mr. Todd!" he shouts, spying Sweeney peeling himself from the wall. "There's a girl who needs my help. Such a sad girl, and lonely – but beautiful, too, and she-"

"Slow down, son," Sweeney comforts, putting his arm around Anthony's shoulders.

"Apparently, they know each other."

He guided the boy to the barber chair. The boy sat down and continued his story. "Yes. I'm sorry. This girl has a guardian who keeps her locked away, but then, this morning, she dropped this." He searched his pockets and produces a key with a blue, silk ribbon. "Surely a sign that Johanna wants me to help her. That's her name: Johanna and Turpin is her guardian. He's a judge of some sort." Lovett, Todd, and I exchanged a meaningful glance, to which Anthony remained oblivious. "Once he goes to court, I'm going to slip into the house, release her and beg her to come away with me tonight."

"Oh, this is very romantic," Nellie commented.

"Yes, but I don't know any one in London, you see, and I need some where safe to bring her 'till I've hired a coach to take us away. If I could keep her here for just and hour or two, I'd be forever in your debt."

Sweeney didn't answer. I, thinking quickly, told the boy, "Bring her here, love." My cousin smiled evilly at my proclamation. Sweeney just stared blankly at me.

"Thank you, ma'am. Mr. Todd?" He gandered at him expectantly, eager for his word of consent. Sweeney nodded subtly. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, my friend, thank you, ma'am."

"Seems like the fates are favoring you at last, Mr. T," Nellie stated after Anthony took his leave. Todd merely grunted a response. "What is it? You'll have her back before the day is out."

"What about him?" Sweeney asked, referring to Anthony while he hooked a leather strop to the side of the chair.

"Him?" Nellie repeated. "Oh, well, let him bring her here and then, since you're so hot for a little…" She gestured towards her thin neck. "That's the throat to slit, my dear."

"Poor little Joanna," I commented. "Probably went all those years without a scrap of motherly affection. Well, we'll soon see to that, now won't we?"

Nellie and I looked behind us to see Mr. Todd staring out the window with a confused expression. We went over to him and looked over his shoulder. We saw…


	6. Visitors

Chapter 5b - Visitors

Nellie and I look behind us to see Mr. Todd staring out the window with a confused expression. We go over to him and look over his shoulder. We see Pirelli and Toby heading towards the shoppe. "Hello. What's he doing here?" I ask.

"Keep the boy downstairs," Sweeney orders.

Mrs. Lovett nods and goes through the door without hesitation, but I stand firm.

"Go," he tells me.

"No," I respond simply.

"_Go_," he insists. "This is professional business between men."

"Too bad. I'm not leaving. This won't end well, Mr. Todd. I can feel it. I'm staying with you."

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," he growls, slamming me against the wall, the cold, silver razor against my neck. "Get out. _Now!_"

I hear something and slam my lips against Sweeney's. I use his temporary state of shock to my advantage. I push him to the middle of the room. I remove the razor from his hand and slip it into his holster.

I can tell he is appalled at my sudden attack on his mouth, but he will find out why in 3…2…1.

Immediately following, Pirelli knocks. Sweeney abruptly pulls away, but when he does, my lips instinctively try to hang on and I'm filled with a sudden empty feeling. "Come in."

"What-a was a-that about?" Pirelli asks in his thick, Italian accent. "I a-heard yelling."

"Well," I reply, "we were just having a little spat, but you know couples. Soon, we end up apologizing. If my assumptions are correct, that was our shortest fight yet. What do you think, love?"

"I think so. Pet, why don't you go down stairs and help Mrs. Lovett? I obviously, have some business to attend to," he suggests, an edge to his voice that clearly states, _"Get the bloody hell out of here!"_

I glance at him pleadingly. He slightly glares back. I am forced to exit the shoppe. As I leave, they begin to talk. I may be mistaken, but I could swear I hear a thick Irish accent.

I shrug and enter the dining area of the pie shoppe downstairs. Toby is stuffing a pie into his small mouth and Nellie is babbling about her "dear, old Albert."

Now, I have sampled one of Nellie's pies – _not pleasant in the least!_ – so, judging by the way Toby is devouring his pie, I hardly believe that it is one of Mrs. Lovett's. Then again, where else would he get a meat pie? Wow! That child _must_ be malnourished!

"He didn't have your nice head of hair, though," Mrs. Lovett continues to Toby.

"To tell the truth," he admits, ripping off his blond wig and revealing dark, cropped hair. "It gets awful hot."

"Goodness!" I exclaim, startling them.

"Oh, Lil-uh Jasmine, there you are. I was beginning to wonder where you went."

"I had to talk to Mr. Todd for a moment. That's all," I answer.

We talk for a minute. Thumping noises are heard from above. Seeing the worry on Toby's face, Mrs. Lovett and I pound pots and knives to cover the sounds.

"My, my, my. Always work to be done. 'Spick and span.' That's my motto," Nellie says.

_"Right. If it is, then why does no one 'come in even to inhale'?"_

"So, how'd you end up with that dreadful Italian?"

"Got me from the workhouse. Been there since I was born," Toby gasps in a sudden realization. "Oh, God! He's got an appointment with his tailor! If he's late, he'll blame me!" Before either of us can stop him, he dashes out of the shoppe.

Quick as a flash, I scurry up the internal stairs, beating him. "Toby's coming," I yell.

A casual Sweeney Todd stands in the corner and he looks at me, just as confused as me. "P-Pirelli?" I stutter.

"Taken care of," he says smoothly holding out a china cup. "Tea?"

"I-" Toby opening the door cuts me off.

"Signor, you've got an appointment!" he yells. He looks around and spots me. "What are you doing up here, Miss Churovia? Weren't you just downstairs?"

"I was, " I reply, walking to the second chest in the far corner. "I simply forgot my jacket. I was a bit chilly downstairs," I lie, slipping one on over my blood-red dress.

"What about –?"

"Signor Pirelli's been called away," Sweeney lies, pouring tea for himself and I. "Better run after him."

"No, sir," Toby objects, backing into the chest and sitting down. "I should stay here, or it'll be a lashing. He's a great one for the lashings."

Movement attracts Sweeney's and my attention. We finally see that Pirelli's blood-deprived, twitching hand is hanging out of the chest. Our eyes fill with panic.

"So," Mr. Todd starts, "Mrs. Lovett gave you a pie, did she?"

"She's a real lady," Toby interjects fondly. I hold back a giggle before silently slipping out of the room.

Sweeney's POV

"That she is," I agree with a smile. I look again at Pirelli's hand and continue, "but if I know a growing boy, there's still room for more pie, eh?"

"Yes, sir." I then guide Toby to the door.

"Then why don't you wait for your master downstairs?" I suggest. "There'll be another pie in it for you, I'm sure."

"No," he protests again. "I should stay here."

I become agitated, twitch, then, another persuasion comes to mind. "Tell you what," I propose, "why don't you tell Mrs. Lovett that I said to give you a nice, big tot of gin."

"Thank you, sir!" Tobias runs out of the shoppe, the bell tinkling as he exits. I, expecting to see Lillianna, look over my shoulder with a superior expression. I find not her presence. I look around the shoppe to find her gone.

A familiar, yet still strange, empty feeling washes over me, but I shrug it off easily.

I slowly approach the chest and open it, the rusted hinges emitting a long squeak. Pirelli feebly attempts to climb out. I open my shining friend and, very smoothly, wrap my arm around the blood-soaked figure, one hand on his forehead, the other grasping the razor at the man's throat. I draw the blade across his neck, my hands sufficiently suppressing the man's spasms. Rubies squirt everywhere.

I gently replace him in his temporary resting place. I close the chest and begin to polish my precious friend.


	7. Women

**Chapter 6 – Women**

**Toby soon comes running back down, yelling, "Mr. Todd said I can have gin! Mrs. Lovett? Miss Churovia?"**

**Nellie goes to get a bottle of gin for Tobias whilst I grab a glass. We pour him a glass and everything is relatively calmer, save for the tension between Nellie and I.**

**Toby starts to gulp down the gin faster than you can say, "drink up."**

**"You ought to slow down a bit, lad," I warn him. "It'll go straight to your head."**

**"They used to give it to us in the workhouse so as we could sleep," he explains. "Not that you'd want to sleep in that place, ma'am," he continues. Nellie simply stares off into space. I know we're thinking about that same thing: Sweeney Todd. "Not with the things what happen in the dark."**

**"That's nice, dear," Nellie says, absent mindedly. "I think I'll just pop in on Mr. Todd for a tick. Are you alright, there?" she asks, corking the bottle.**

**"Leave the bottle," Toby requests. Nellie resigns to leave it in its place. I follow her up the outside stairs.**

**We enter the shoppe and she immediately starts gabbing. "That lad is drinking me out of house and home. How long 'till Pirelli gets back?"**

**"He won't be back." Sweeney turns around to face us, polishing his razor. We notice a bright red splotch on his right sleeve.**

**"Mr. T, you didn't!" Nellie gasps. He subtly nods to the chest. She warily closes the door and approaches it, me slightly behind her. She opens the lid and sees a colorful figure drenched in blood. We gasp and Nellie closes the lid. "You're barking mad! Killing a man what done you no harm."**

**He recognized me from the old days…" Sweeney explains. "Tried to blackmail me…half my earnings."**

**I'm not too convinced, but Nellie looks extremely relieved. "Oh, well, that's a different matter, then. For a moment there, I thought you'd lost your marbles."**

**"'Lost your marbles'?" I repeat. "He shouldn't be killing anybody, provoked or not!"**

**She ignores me and opens the chest once again. She looks at the bloody body with an expression of disgust. "All that blood," she states. Sweeney inspects his razor and walks to the door, looking at it in the light filtering in through the window. "Poor bugger. Oh, well." She reaches into the chest and searches through the clothes daintily. She finds a cute, purple purse and looks inside it. She finds a respectable amount of money, says, "Well, waste not, want not," and stuffs it in her cleavage.**

**I stare transfixed by the crimson blood. I have a strong desire to reach out and touch the sticky substance, but I refrain from doing so. Instead, I simply stare at the bloody corpse, but seeing a different face in place of Pirelli with me beside the chest, Todd's razor in hand.**

**I am snapped out of my daydreaming when Nellie closes the chest. "So, what are we going to do about the boy, then?" I ask.**

**"Send him up," Sweeney states simply, staring at his razor.**

**"Oh, we don't need to worry about him. He's a simple thing," Nellie assures.**

**"Send him up!" he insists.**

**"Now, Mr. Todd, surely one's enough for today," I say calmingly. I turn on the charm factor and walk up to him, placing my hands on his chest. He stares at me harshly down his nose, slightly sneering.**

**"Besides," my cousin adds, backing me up, "I was thinking of hiring the lad to help me run the shoppe." He leans his head back and rolls his eyes, sensing defeat. He looks her in the eye. "Your poor knees aren't what they used to be," she adds, giving him puppy eyes.**

**"What about Lillianna, or should I say, Jasmine? You can have her and I'll have the boy," he says.**

**"As an apprentice?" I ask, not believing what I hear.**

**"Of course not! I would never take that little brat! I meant, send him up so I can dispose of him!"**

**"I can't let you do that, Mr. Todd," I say. Nellie seems surprised at my strong defiance. I stare Mr. Todd down for only about 10 seconds before he pulls away from me.**

**"Alright," he grumbles, moving to the small window.**

**"Of course we're going to have to stock up on the gin. The boy drinks like a sailor," Lovett says, changing the subject.**

**Sweeney spies the Beadle and the Judge heading towards the barber shoppe. "The Judge," he whispers hoarsely, turning to face us. Neither Nellie, nor I move. "Get out!" he snarls. Nellie immediately goes to the door and exits the external stairs. I hesitate a moment longer and head for the internal stairs. I make noises like I'm descending the steps, but I really remain just out of view, but so I can see what is happening.**

**Sweeney goes to the vanity and spies his bloody sleeve. He has to think fast. He grabs a jacket from the second chest and slips it on just as the door opens.**

**"Mr. Todd?" greets the Judge.**

**"At your service," he confirms. "It is an honor to receive your patronage, my Lord."**

**"You know me, sir?"**

**"Who in this wide world…does not know the great…Judge Turpin?" The cheesy line appears to work on him.**

**The judge looks around the shoppe with a critical eye and walks to the vanity, stopping to admire something. "These premises are hardly prepossessing and yet the Beadle tells me you're the most accomplished of all the barbers in the city."**

**"That is gracious of him, sir." Mr. Todd goes to him and removes the Judge's coat, eager to see rubies drip from his flesh. "What may I do for you, today, sir…a stylish trimming of the hair…a soothing skin massage? Sit, sir, sit."**

**"You see, sir, a man infatuate with love: her ardent and eager slave. So, fetch the pomade and pumice stone and lend me a more seductive tone, a sprinkling, perhaps, of French cologne, but first, sir, I think…a shave."**

**"The closest I ever gave," Sweeny promises, an evil smirk tugging at the corners of our lips as we realize how true the words really are.**

**The Judge begins to free his neck of any and all bonds and sits down on the chair. Sweeney drapes the apron****around his shoulders and begins to whistle as he mixes the lather.**

**"You in a merry mood today, Mr. Todd?" the Judge asks, slightly befuddled at his supposed merriness.**

**"'Tis your delight, sir, catching fire from one man to the next," Mr. Todd exclaims.**

**"'Tis true, sir, love can still inspire the blood to pound, the heart leap higher. What more-?"**

**"What more can man require?" they ask the other.**

**"Than love, sir?"**

**"****_More_**** than love, sir," Sweeney corrects.**

**"What, sir?"**

**"Women," he answers simply.**

**"Ah, yes, women," Turpin sighs.**

**"Pretty women," Sweeney rephrases. The Judge begins to hum and Sweeney whistles as he lathers his unshaven face.**

**Silence is then heard. I chance a peek around the corner. I remain hidden as I watch Sweeney finish up sharpening his razor. He turns and begins to sing eerily to his "precious friend."**

**"Now, then, my friend," he croons. "Now, to your purpose…patience…enjoy it…" He positions the razor at the Judge's neck, ready to draw it across the vulnerable flesh, releasing the imprisoned rubies. "Revenge can't be taken in haste." The Judge abruptly sits upright, almost doing Sweeney's job for him.**

**"Make haste and if we wed, you'll be commended, sir," the old man threatens.**

**"My lord!" Todd pleads. "And who, may it be said, is your intended, sir?"**

**"My ward…a pretty little rosebud."**

**"Pretty as her mother?" Mr. Todd asks more to himself, thinking of Lucy.**

**"What? What was that?" the Judge inquires, not fully registering the question. ****_Thank God!_**

**Sweeney quickly covers it. "Nothing, sir, nothing. May we proceed?" He brings the razor to his throat, but instead of freeing the rubies, he begins to shave him, singing, "Pretty women…fascinating…sipping coffee…dancing! Pretty women are a wonder. Pretty women, sitting in the window, or standing on the stair. Something in them cheers the air. He absently glares at the Judge's neck, as if simply glaring at it will make him cease to breath.**

**As he's singing, I can't help but subconsciously wonder if he's thinking of Lucy, Nellie, or possibly me. I could only hope.**

**_"What am I thinking? I shouldn't like him. I shouldn't feel anything for this man…not unless I wish to have another break in my heart."_**

**Sweeney continues his singing and I can't help but think it's beautiful…and still subconsciously hang on to that thread of hope.**

**"Pretty women."**

**"Silhouetted," the Judge adds with a smile.**

**"Stay within you," Sweeney continues.**

**"Glancing."**

**"Stay forever," Mr. Todd seems to plead.**

**"Breathing lightly," the Judge sighs.**

**"Pretty women," Sweeney sings.**

**"Pretty women," they chorus together. **

**"Blowing out their…" Sweeney croons.**

**"Blowing out their candles," the Judge echoes.**

**"Candles or combing out their…"**

**"Combing out their hair," the Judge continues.**

**"Hair," Sweeney finishes.**

**"Then they leave."**

**"Even when they…" Mr. Todd's expression saddens. ****_He's definitely thinking of Lucy._**

**"Even when they leave-"**

**"…Leave…" Sweeney laments.**

**"-You and vanish-"**

**"…They still…"**

**"They somehow can still remain-" the Judge interjects.**

**"…Are there…"**

**"There with you."**

**"They're there."**

**"There with you," the Judge repeats.**

**"Ah, pretty women!" they sing.**

**"At the mirror," Todd suggests.**

**"In their gardens," Judge Turpin adds.**

**"Letter-writing," Sweeney continues.**

**"Flower-picking," Turpin says.**

**"Weather-watching."**

**"How they make a man sing!" they exclaim. "Proof of heaven as your living."**

**They continue singing and shouting, "pretty women," climaxing as Sweeney draws the razor nearer and nearer to the exposed flesh. Anticipating the flow of rubies, I lean forward a little. The razor touches the Judge's neck when all of a sudden…!**

**A/N1: CLIFFHANGER! MWAHAHAHAHAAA! You have to wait for the next chapter, my loves, to see what happens! Will I stick to the movie and have Anthony burst in, or will Sweeney spot Lillianna, call her by her true name, letting it slip to the Judge, who will find the Beadle and tell him where his cousin's love is hiding? Keep reading to find out!**

**A/N2: I swear, the Judge singing just makes the song worse and pervy-fied but the echoing does sound nice, I guess. Any ways, you don't know how long it took me to write this chapter, not to mention I had to write it TWICE because my mom deleted everything! (I was only a few chapters shy of finishing the whole story & this is in the beginning. This is chapter 6, there are about 30 chapters.) Quite frankly, I never want to do this song ever again. I had to listen to Sexy Sweeney and Pervy Turpin at least 20 times to get the cues just right. Please, just don't ask me to do this again. If I ever do songs again (in another story) don't expect me to do this! I'm just going to make it dialogue. Short, sweet and to the point!**


	8. Epiphany!

**ALH – Epiphany**

Sweeney is so close to slitting the Judge's throat and I am anxious to watch from my hidden position at the top of the stairs. I am leaning forward, impatient beyond all reasoning to see the rubies spill forth.

My balance is lost and I topple over with a loud thump. Luckily, my position is not yet revealed, for Anthony bursts in.

"I've just spoken with Johanna and she said she'd leave with…me…tonight…" he trails off, seeing Turpin.

"You!" the Judge exclaims as I scurry behind the wall so as not to be seen. "There is indeed a higher power to warn me thus in time." He gets up and confronts Anthony. "Johanna elope with you?" He angrily wipes his face of remaining lather, still missing a big percentage of it. "As for you, barber," he says, turning to Sweeney and going for his jacket, "It is all too clear what company you keep. Service them well and hold their custom, for you'll have none of mine!" He exits. The bell's tinkling of his leave does nothing to break through the befalling tension.

"Mr. Todd," Anthony pleads. "You have to help me."

"Out," he barely whispers.

"Mr. Todd, please," the boy begs,

"Out," Sweeney says, a little louder.

"Mr. Todd!"

_"Out!"_ Mr. Todd screams. As Anthony takes his hurried leave, I enter and attempt to calm Sweeney down.

"All this shouting and running about. What's happened?"

"I had him," he whispers.

"I think you might have taken everything just a little bit too far-"

"I had him!" Sweeney growls. "His throat was bare beneath my hand."

"There, there, dear. Calm down," I plead, fearing what would happen if he doesn't relax.

"No, I had him!" he screams. "His throat was there and he'll never come again."

"Easy now, hush, love, hush. I keep telling you-" I sing gently.

"When?"

"What's your rush?" Fear enters my eyes as I realize it won't do any good. It's too late.

"Why did I wait? _You_ told me to wait! Now, he'll never come again." He begins to pace in front of the giant window. "There's a hole in the world like a great, black pit and It's filled with people who are filled with shit and the vermin of the world inhabit it…but not for long." An evil, sadistic smirk appears on his face. Normally, I would find it slightly attractive, but, in all honesty, it's giving me quite a fright, now.

"They all deserve to die. Tell you why, Lillianna, tell you why. Because, in all of the whole human race, Lillianna, there are two kinds of men and only two."

At this point, Sweeney is singing into the broken mirror in a blind rage. I know he is on the edge of insanity. I can sense it, and, to be completely honest, I'm terrified of what could happen to me, Nellie, others, and, more importantly, himself.

"There's the one staying put in his proper place and the other one's face. Look at me, Lillianna, look at you." He turns and heads for me. I take a single, timid step back, but he is quick enough to catch up before I continue. He harshly grabs my shoulder with one, strong hand and pushes me against the wall with a dull thud. I'm quite surprised he hasn't brought his razor out on me. "No, we all deserve to die, even you, Lillianna, even I."

He then peels me off the wall and leads me to the middle of the room. When he releases my shoulder with a light push, I plop down in the chair. Shivers run up and down my spine. "Because the lives of the wicked should be – made brief. For the rest of us, death will be a relief!" I feel the coolness of the silver blade at my neck.

_"I wondered when that would come into play."_

"We all deserve to die," he yells in my ear, *his hot breath tickling my neck. The sweet smell of honey drifting off of him does nothing to calm me, but only makes my heart beat faster and renders me incapable of trying to escape. I brace myself for death. My breathing becomes shallow.

I am shocked when the razor is slowly taken away from the flesh of my neck.

"And I'll never see Johanna. No, I'll never hug my girl to me," Sweeney laments, heading for the window.

At the same time, Nellie rushes in and sees me in the chair. She hurries over and hauls me out and into a standing position.

"What's going -?" she starts.

"Finished!" Sweeney yells, at last jumping off the edge of insanity.

"What's going on?" Nellie repeats.

"Mr. Todd's gone completely mad! He's lost his marbles!" I reply hysterically.

_"Did he ever have any in the first place?"_

Mr. Todd starts rambling and dancing about the shoppe, yelling things like, "You, sir, how about a shave?" so on and so forth, ranting and begging for customers to satiate his hunger for blood.

"Oh," Mrs. Lovett sighs with relief. "That's it? Well, just give it a minute or two and he'll be too exhausted to blink. Wait it out. It will all be over soon."

"'Wait it out'?" I shriek. "He's on a rampage! If we don't stop him now, he'll kill half the people in England before sundown!"

"Don't worry," Nellie assures. "It's only one of his anger fits."

"He's not Benjamin Barker anymore. You've known him as long as I have. How would you know how he works?"

"I'm winging it," she mumbles.

"Nellie…I'm scared," I whisper.

She holds me close as we watch Sweeney yelling, singing, and thrashing about with his razors.

"And I will get him back even as he gloats." Sweeney Slashes the air twice, precariously near Nellie. We step back as he keeps advancing toward us, yet not really seeing us. "In the meantime, I'll practice on less honorable throats." He swings once more, narrowly avoiding my nose.

"And my Lucy," he cries, "lies in ashes and I'll never see my girl again, but the work waits! I'm alive at last and I'm full of joy!" He ends on a high note (Not as high as Pirelli's, mind you. _I_ can just barely do that!), kneeling and panting. He is grasping a razor in each hand and holding them high.

"That's all very well," Nellie begins, anticlimactically, "but what are we going to do about him?" She looks pointedly at the chest where Pirelli still lies.

Sweeney lowers the razors as he is brought back to reality.

"Hello? Do you hear me?"

Mr. Todd remains passive, his face only displaying a look of slight confusion.

"What a way to be tactful," I say to Nellie sarcastically. She ignores me and resigns to go behind Sweeney and pick him up.

"Come on, you great, useless thing," she mumbles under her breath. I help her get Mr. Todd to his feet and down to the pie shoppe. I sit him in a booth as she heads to the other room.

I stand behind the sitting Mr. Todd, kneading his shoulders. Nellie comes back with an almost empty bottle of gin. She pours him a glass and sits opposite him. "Now, we've got a body moldering away upstairs. What do you intend we should do about that, eh?"

I encounter and work on a particular knot and he relaxes…somewhat. He takes a gulp of the gin. His face remains blank, save for a grimace when the drink pours down his throat. "Later on, when it's dark, we'll take it to some secret place and bury it," he replies.

"Oh, yeah, of course we could do that. I don't suppose he's got and relatives going to come poking around for him…" She stands and walks to one of the windows. A look appears on her face that I know only too well. I can almost see the gears turning inside her head. I dread what I'm about to hear come out of her mouth.


	9. Pies

**A/N: Again, this took **_**forever**_** to write! I'm probably never going to do all these songs word for word again. Enjoy!**

"Seems a downright shame," Nellie says, gazing out the window, thinking so hard, I can hear the wheels turning in her mind.

"'Shame'?" Mr. Todd and I ask in unison. I sit down where Nellie was moments ago and brace myself for what is to come.

"Seems and awful waste. Such a nice, plump frame what's-his-name has…had…has nor it can't be traced." I really don't know what she's getting at, but I know it can't be good. Many a time have her crazy ideas got us in trouble when we would visit each other when we were young. "Business needs a lift, debts to be erased. Think of it as thrift, as a gift, if you get my drift." I look at her inquiringly whilst Mr. Todd simply continues to stare blankly at his half full glass of gin.

Nellie sighs. "Seems and awful waste," she repeats. Then, she tries a different tactic. "I mean, with the price of meat, what it is when you get it, if you get it." She plays with the disgusting, soupy mixture that is – or, rather, was – her pie fillings to make her point.

"Ah!" Sweeney exclaims, realization dawning on the both of us.

"Nellie, you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?" I scold, fearing the absolute worst.

"Good, you got it! Take for instance Mrs. Mooney and her pie shoppe." She begins to pace, reminding me of Mr. Todd. "Business never better using only pussy cats and toast. Now a pussy's good for maybe six or seven at the most, and I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste!"

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney says, getting up and walking over to her. "What a charming notion!"

"Well, it does seem a waste!"

"Eminently practical and yet appropriate, as always." I scoff. "Mrs. Lovett, how I've lived without you all these years, I'll never know!"

"Now you're siding with _her?"_ I shriek. "What happened to burying him?"

"Think about it," Nellie sings.

"How delectable!" Sweeney exclaims, bringing her into a waltz. I grimace at the thought of going through with my cousin's plan.

"Lots of other gentlemen will soon be coming for a shave," Nellie points out.

"Also, undetectable!" he approves.

"Won't they? Think of-" she starts.

"How choice!" he marvels.

"-All them-"

"How rare!"

"-Pies!" Nellie finishes.

"For what's the sound of the world out there?" Todd asks, bringing her to the window again.

"What, Mr. Todd? What, Mr. Todd? What is that sound?" she inquires.

"Those crunching noises pervading the air," he responds.

"Yes, Mr. Todd. Yes, Mr. Todd. Yes all around!"

"It's man devouring man, my dear," he replies.

"And who are we to deny it in here?" they sing together.

"You two are going too far," I warn them.

"These are desperate times, Lillianna," Sweeney tells me, his ebony eyes filled with a dangerous, evil, murderous glow I've never seen before. "Desperate measures are called for." He smiles cynically and holds out a hand, inviting me to waltz.

As much as I secretly want to, I decline. "No. I am not getting up." I cross my arms over my chest and glare away from him. Then, Nellie grabs his attention again.

"Here we are. Hot, out of the oven."

Ignoring all I've learned about my cousin, I am compelled to question, "What is that?" I immediately regret having said those words and dread the answer.

"It's priest. Have a little priest," she insists.

"Is it really good?" Todd inquires, the dangerous glow in his eyes becoming more morbidly excited and playful.

"Sir, it's too good, at least. Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh, so, it's pretty fresh," she gushes, heading towards the window once more.

"Awful lot of fat," he says, slightly repulsed.

"Only where it sat," she implores.

"Haven't you got poet or something like that?"

No. You see, the trouble with poet is how do you know it's deceased? Try the priest," she insists. She was always the persistent one.

"Priests? Poet? I can't wait to see what you'll think up next, Nellie," I say, my lips dripping with sarcasm.

"Lawyer's rather nice," she muses.

"Of course!" I shout in exasperation. I can't help but wonder if she heard me or not.

"If it's for a price," Sweeney says, surely ignoring me. I'll admit he's quite talented when it comes to tuning people out.

"Order something else, though, to follow, since no one should swallow it twice." Where Nellie came up with these things, I would never know.

"Anything that's lean?" he suggests.

"Well, then, if you're British and loyal you might enjoy royal marine. Anyway, it's clean. Though, of course, it tastes of wherever it's been."

"Is that squire on the fire?" Todd asks.

"Mercy, no, sir, look closer. You'll notice it's grocer."

"Looks thicker…more like vicar," he observes.

"No, it has to be grocer, it's green."

Mr. Todd puts a hand on the back of her neck and leads her to the other side of the shoppe. "The history of the world, my love-" he begins.

"Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favors."

"-is those below serving those up above."

"Everybody shaves, so there should be plenty of flavors."

Sweeney turns Nellie, stops, and places both hands on either of her shoulders. "How gratifying for once to know-"

"-That those above will serve those down below!" they chorus together.

"Don't you think you're being even the slightest bit irrational?" I question. "Cannibalism? That's your last resort? Don't you think you're going a little too far?" They only ignore me and continue their game.

"What is that?" Mr. Todd inquires.

"It's fop, finest in the shoppe." She heads for her cooking counter. "Or we have some shepherd's pie peppered with actual shepherd on top and I've just begun. Here's the politician so oily it's served with a doily. Have one."

"Put it on a bun. Well, you never know if it's going to run."

"Oh, yeah, really funny, you two," I say sarcastically.

"Try the friar, fried, it's drier," she suggests.

"No, the clergy is really too coarse and too mealy," Sweeney objects.

"Then actor, its compacter," she persuades.

"Ah, but it always arrives over done." He puts a cleaver to Nellie's neck and a gasp escapes my lips. What I really don't understand about this picture, is the fact that, even though he's in a position where he can easily take her life and Nellie looks so lustful and oblivious. "I'll come again when you have Judge on the menu," Sweeney growls. They begin to waltz again. "Have charity towards the world, my pet."

"Yes, yes, I know, my love," she swoons.

"We'll take the customers that we can get."

"High born and low, my love."

"We'll not discriminate great from small. No, we'll serve any one-" Sweeney sings.

"-Meaning anyone-" they sing, "-and to anyone at all"

"Stop it!" I scream at the couple holding a cleaver, a rolling pin, and the other's hand. They turn away from the window and their faces are blank. "My God! So, this is what it comes to, is it? Cannibalism?" I screech mutinously. "Don't you think it a little over the top?"

"Sweeney gently advances on me. He attempts to place a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It's the only way, Lillia-"

"Don't you touch me!" I scream, recoiling. "You two have gone completely mad! Fine! You do what you want, but I will have no part in this!" I storm into my room and attempt to pack my things, when my door is roughly reopened.


	10. Purpose

My door is roughly reopened. I turn to see and enraged Sweeney Todd charging at me, razor at the ready. I remain defiant until he is right in front of me. Then, fear enters my eyes. His left hand grasps my shoulder. He backs me up and slams me against the wall. My head bounces off the hard barrier and the shelf above grazes the top of my skull. I feel a trickle of a warm, sticky liquid running down my head, but I ignore it.

"You're not going anywhere," Sweeney Todd growls menacingly in my ear, his hot breath adding to the moisture of the steady stream of blood. I suddenly feel a coolness on my neck; the razor.

_"He's going to kill me…"_

The blade and this fact send shivers up my spine. "How do I know you won't go to the law? I'm extremely sorry about this, Lillianna, but it's for our own good." Pressure is added to the blade at my neck and my self-preservation kicks in.

"Please!" I gasp, "I won't! You have my word, Mr. Todd."

Sweeney runs the cold blade up and down my neck. Whatever his intention, whether to scare me, tease me, or if he's simply bored and wants nothing more than to have my rubies soak him, I'm terrified for my life. "How do I know I can trust you?" he asks, directly in my ear. I push him off with all my might. He stumbles a couple paces back, but soon is stable again.

"You can bloody trust me! You and I know that," I shout.

"I wouldn't be throwing around the 'B' word if I were you, darling," Todd purrs, knowing full well of the steady stream of rubies cascading down my head and neck.

"I'll toss around any word I want, you sadistic, psychotic, vengeful, smug, blood-thirsty barber!"

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that?" The next thing I know, my cheek feels as if struck by a whip. I gasp from the impact.

"Let's get a few tings straight, Mr. Todd," I spit. "One, you are _not_ to touch me. Two, you are _not_ to speak like that to me and three: you are to _get out!"_ I scream at the man. A sadistic smirk crosses his face.

"Don't touch you, eh?" Sweeney repeats maliciously with a hint of hysteria. Quick as lightning, he slithers behind me, grabs a fistful of my chocolate hair, pulling my head back, and, with the other hand, rests his razor under my chin. There is obviously no getting out of this position.

Sweeney walks me to my bedroom door, the one we both slammed shut upon entry. "Now, if you would be so kind as to open that door…my hands are a little full," he requests, feigning politeness.

"If I don't?" I object.

In response, his grip tightens. "Open the door!" he shouts in my ear.

"Indespicable, bloody barber," I mutter with contempt. I regretfully grasp and turn the cold, metallic orb. Once the door is opened, he shoves me through.

"Now, close it." He turns me around so I can comply. After that, he walks me to his shoppe, entering the same way we exited my bedroom. He maneuvers me into the barber chair, his hands never leaving their posts.

"Lillianna, do indulge me. Do you fear death?" **(Yes, I know, POTC quote, but I had to do it! It's too perfect!)**

I bite my lip and think on the past for a mere moment before I speak. "No."

I can tell he is taken aback from my reply, for he pauses, not knowing what to say. Carefully maneuvering himself, Sweeney moves in front of me, the razor never leaving the soft, delicate flesh of my neck. "Really?" he says, incredulous. "Please, indulge me once more. Why is it that you do not fear death? Tell me why you do not tremble when you face the cold, black abyss marking the end of your time on earth?"

His deep, ebony eyes penetrate my hazel ones, momentarily hypnotizing me. It is amazing how easily I can get lost in Todd's soulful eyes, the only things that show any emotion in this man.

I mentally slap myself for thinking such things and contemplate how to approach his question as I finally tear my gaze from the ebony orbs. I come to the conclusion that I should tell him everything. Why not, if he's going to kill me anyway?

"You see, five years ago, I was married to a man named Charles Hunnington. He was a drunken brute who beat me whenever he wished." Oncoming tears prick my eyes already, but I hold them back as long as I can. "I would have none of it, so I did the only thing I could do: leave," I explain. Sweeney listens intently with a blank expression. I can tell he won't interrupt, so I continue on.

"Shortly thereafter, I met Gregory. Gregory Rodgers, a cutler, he was. I was a seamstress." I add as an after thought. An odd mix of sorrow and bliss, both from the memory of him, overtakes me. "He was the perfect gentleman and it wasn't long till we wed.

"Then we had Cassandra. A beautiful little girl, she was. I had all I ever wanted…finally! A good family, money coming in regular, a nice house…the district we lived in was good, too, a good environment for our little girl to grow up in. Then…everything changed.

"It happened a mere two days before you entered the shoppe. Charles had tried to warn me when I left, but after all that time, I thought he would have changed, or forgot. I was out at the market; he came by and set fire to my house. Both Gregory and Cassandra died in that fire. Sweeney, they were my life…and because of him…they're gone.

"You don't know how lucky you are, Mr. Todd. You at the least have a chance of seeing you daughter again. You know she lives! As for me, I know for a fact that I will never again see my Cassandra. I'll never hold my baby girl in my arms ever again. My little angel…is gone…forever…" Speaking the words now, the full brunt of what happened hits me fast and hard. The whole truth seems realized as I verbalize it; speaking the words eliminated any doubts or ignorance I had. It is only now that I realize my face is covered in tears. I try to control any more emotion and face what is to come.

"That, Mr. Todd, is why I fear not the cold embrace of death. My world was taken from me. I cannot bear it any longer. I no longer have a purpose in this world. What I mean to say is this: Mr. Todd, if you are going to kill me, kill me now. I have nothing left to live for."

Mr. Todd holds his blank stare for a moment before emitting a sigh of defeat and looking away. The shining blade is removed from my throat and his hand rests on the arm of the chair, matching that of his other, razor-less hand. "I'm not going to kill you," he mutters.

His gaze comes to rest upon me once again, an intense look on his face. "You, indeed, have a purpose left in this living hell we call life."

"What could that possibly be?" I ask, despairingly.

He stiffens. "We all have a purpose. We live until it is served. My purpose, for example, is to avenge my wife and daughter by killing all who hurt us."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"You will find out when the time comes," he replies casually, heading towards the window for the millionth time today.

"You make it sound as if you know my-" I start, suspicious.

"Cease your dwelling," he snaps, becoming irritated and tired. "You will know in due time."

I can tell by his finalizing tone that he does not wish me to press the subject, but merely desires to be left alone, free to brood on his unfortunate past.

I then realize our lives aren't that different…nor are our purposes in life. I will terminate Charles if it's the last thing I do.

I rise from the chair, exit the shoppe and leave him to his thoughts.


	11. Forbidden

The door to my room is closed and, now, I stand in the middle of the room. I am trying to untie the ribbons in the back of my dress. I finally break the knots and begin to slip it off.

"Lillianna?" Without waiting for an answer, my visitor turns the sound of soft knocking into the creaking noise of my door opening.

I instinctively cover myself and spin around to face the intruder. His hard face is turned away from me in a grimace, a slight sneer playing on his lips.

"Sorry," he mutter.

"It's fine, Mr. Todd. I'm decent." I make sure the dress is up all the way and start to fumble as I lace up the strings, this time, securing them.

"I have it," he offers. He walks behind me and gently ties the ribbons, his fingers occasionally brushing the delicate flesh on my back and neck. These touches send sparks and shivers through my body. I remain defiant and ignorant to the sensations. What does it matter if he shows me kindness every once in awhile? These thoughts and reactions are forbidden.

"I realize I haven't properly apologized for my behavior earlier," he says warmly. His sudden decency flatters me. I am surprised that a man who is now usually so cold and distant – and who, mere hours earlier was threatening my life – can still locate the gentleman named Benjamin Barker somewhere inside of him. This brings a crimson blush to my tanned cheeks.

"It was my fault. I overreacted. As you said –"

"No," he interrupts, facing me and placing his hands on my shoulders. "You expected some decency from me. You think the idea of meat pies of human meat is barbaric. If my temper hadn't blown quite that big, then I would have spared you the…consequences. How is your head, by the way?"

The kindness he is showing seems to lighten the ebony eyes to a deep chocolate and I see a flash of his previous, docile being.

I soon realize I am staring. I force myself to tear my gaze away from the admittedly handsome man in front of me.

_"Why does he make me feel this way?" _I ponder._ "I shouldn't feel this way about anybody. __**Gregory**__ was my soulmate. I shouldn't have to succumb to these sensations. I simply cannot fancy Mr. Todd; we are strictly friends, if even. He is forbidden, off limits. __**I loved Gregory!"**_

Another part of my mind points out some interesting key words. "Gregory _was_ my soulmate," and "I _loved_ Gregory." I will admit that my family is gone, but I simply cannot betray Gregory like that, dead or not. I need to distance myself from Mr. Todd to make this work.

"It's fine," I say, removing his hands. I look down in shame and confusion.

Being the stubborn man he is, he ignores my silent plea to be left alone and places a hand under my chin. He lifts my head for us to see eye to eye.

"What's wrong?" he asks, reading my features and sensing something is wrong. His face twists in compassion and confusion.

I gaze intently in his now chocolate eyes. "Nothing," I finally say. I resign to exit and go to the wash room, hoping beyond hope that he does not follow me.

I don't even realize it. As I pass him, I give him a light peck on the cheek. He stares at me as I continue on my way, silently cursing myself.

_"What the bloody hell were you thinking!?"_

**"Honestly, nothing."**

_"You can't do that! You just promised you would distance yourself; you can't betray Gregory and what did you just do? You kissed the bloody bastard!"_

**"It was only on the cheek!"**

_"That makes no difference, dumb ass! This is very fucked up, now, you know that right?"_

**"Shit. This isn't good."**

_"You're damn right, it isn't!"_

"What was that?" the forbidden one asks, leaning against the doorway of the washroom and discontinuing my internal conversation. I tie my hair back with a spare ribbon, thinking of an adequate response.

"It was priest, my dear," I reply sourly, referring to today's earlier activities. It is a dry attempt at humor, I realize, for he glares at me. All traces of Benjamin Barker evaporate. His eyes return to the usual midnight black, all kindness and patience wears thin and I know he suddenly couldn't care less about my head.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't," I lie. "What was what?"

"That! That-that-that-that-" he stutters, unable to make the forbidden word form in his mouth.

"'That' what? What the bloody hell are you talking about?" I question. His inability to simply forget it is starting to annoy me.

"That- that- That _kiss!_" he spits the word with contempt.

A heat starts to creep through me. I suppress it and ask smoothly, "What about it?"

"What was that for? What did you mean by it?"

"Don't think much of it," I assure him with a sigh. Luckily, I am able to act calm, cool and collected. Still, I watch my tongue for any slip ups. "It was merely a friendly gesture."

"Really?" he asks, control suddenly regained.

"What are you implying by that?" I inquire, starting to put a little teasing in my tone, but nothing suggestive. Just…something to get him confused. His brow furrows in confusion. "Do you think it was driven by other feelings? If so, what other feelings?"

"And what are your implications?" he counters.

"Excuse me?"

He seems to have an epiphany. "You think I'm hoping you fancy me. I'm not. I am simply curious. Why? _Do_ you fancy me?"

"Of course not," I respond, a little too rushed and flustered.

"It sure sounds like it," he states with a victory smirk.

"I can assure you that I do not consider you like that." I busy myself by drenching my face in water.

"Really?" he repeats. "Since it would be under other circumstances, what would you have done had you had said feelings?" His voice tells me he knows I lied. Damn. I tried so hard not to show.

"Why do you want to know?" I ask defensively, taking a breath.

"I am merely curious as to the outcome of the situation."

I swear he wants me to kiss him. Well, I won't give him the satisfaction. "Why don't you keep your curiosity to yourself, Mr. Todd?"

"Am I beginning to aggravate you?"

"Only a little," I remark. That's the understatement of the century.

"Then I am doing my job," he replies with another smirk. Okay…apparently I did give him satisfaction. "How, again, would the outcome change had you had feelings for me?"

Acting on impulse out of rage and annoyance, I do only what I can. "I would have done this!" In demonstration, I grab his face and pull him to me in a rough, but passionate kiss. For a moment, I actually enjoy it, but I quickly snap back to reality. I push him off and instantly regain control of myself.

"As it is," I begin, "I did not."

"You just did." Though he tries to sound arrogant, I can tell something else lies beneath the surface.

I roll my eyes and stalk to my room. He follows me and leans against the door frame, probably not done aggravating me.

"I'm lucky," Sweeney muses, half to himself, but I know it will be followed by some smart comment. "If I would have entered your room a moment later, I would have seen something I really didn't want to see."

Fine. Two can play at this game. "What, may I ask, are your implications with that remark?" I ask, trying to turn the tables on him.

"Merely that I did not wish to see you in your undergarments," he answers simply.

"Is that the truth? Or are implying that I am unattractive?"

"No! Never!" he defends, honestly.

"Then what_ are_ you suggesting?"

"Why are you being so over analytical?" Sweeney yells exasperatedly, obviously agitated, a red blush creeping into his cheeks.

"I'm showing you how annoying you can be!" I reply. "Besides, you're not answering my question."

"You want an answer?" He grabs my wrist and pulls me to him. Our soft lips collide. I resist for only a moment, but soon, I melt into the kiss.

**STOP NOW IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE READING GRAPHIC…JUDGE THINGS… YOU MAY CONTINUE READING WHEN YOU SEE THESE AGAIN!**

***************************************************************************************************************

He walks forward, leading me to my bed. He turns us around and flops onto the bed, pulling me with him. With impeccable skill and swiftness, he slips off my dress. Sweeney unsheathes the razor in his holster and cuts open my corset, leaving me in only my pantaloons and slip, which are quickly removed.

Sweeney then rolls on top of me. He strips himself of his scarf, vest, jacket, and shirt. At this point, he begins to nibble on my lower lip. Feeling his thin, pale, yet toned figure against mine impels me to part my lips. Then he leaves no part of my mouth unexplored by his curious tongue.

I feel his desire hard against my thigh. Sweeney unbuttons his pants, and soon, both of us are bare and in a passionate embrace.

Without warning, Sweeney Todd thrusts himself inside of me. I gasp and he smirks into the kiss. His sensual kisses leave a fiery path as they trail against my jaw, down to my neck. I cling to the barber, my left hand gripping his ebony hair, my right resting on his back. With every thrust, my grip tightens and my nails dig into his flesh. He doesn't seem to mind this.

He kisses up and down my neck, occasionally stopping at my ear. Sweeney nibbles and sucks, finding my weak spots rather quickly. When he hits these weak spots, I am compelled to moan in deep satisfaction. Sweeney seems to favor the hollows just beneath my ear and neck.

At length, Sweeney looks deep into my eyes before slamming his lips to mine once more. He runs his hands up and down my sides, sending pleasurable thrills throughout my body.

All too soon, it's over. We collapse on each other, gasping for air.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Sweeney rolls over, pulling me with him so I do not have to bear his weight. I shut my eyes and try to catch my breath.

I reopen my eyes to see Sweeney, guilt manifesting itself in his eyes. A single tear breaks through his hard, trained exterior and pride and trickles down his cheek. I know exactly what he is thinking, for it's the same as I am thinking.

"I'm sorry, Lucy." His lament is barely audible; he doesn't want me to hear it. Louder, he says, "I'm sorry Lillianna. I never meant it to go this far."

"It's alright, Mr. Todd. I know that you did not wish to disrespect the memory of your late wife, Lucy, nor did I wish to do the same to Gregory. All the same, they would probably want us to be happy, to move on. Let's face it: They're gone. Lucy and Gregory are never coming back. Life is for the alive, my dear. I'll let you-" I make to get up, but Sweeney holds me close and cuts me off.

"Stay with me," he whispers, giving me the pleading look that reminds me so much of a lost puppy. I can't really tell if the statement is a request or an order. Either way, I oblige, lower myself and rest my head on his chest. I'll admit it feels good. It feels good being in this position again, after having no doubts of ending up as the old widow down the street.

His steady breathing and heart beat lull me to sleep. I enter a peaceful sleep with an amiable smile on my face.


	12. Angel

**_Sweeney's POV_**

**This is just a little peek inside the head of the mysterious Sweeney Todd. I just want every one to know what he's going through and what he thinks of everything. Enjoy your trip to the inside of an insane serial killer's mind!**

Her breathing slows as she lies on top of me. My arms are locked around Lillianna's waist, preventing any movement on her part. I stoke her silky veil of hair.

I don't know how long this lasts; I'm not one to keep track of time. I lay sandwiched between her and her bed, thinking on her words.

I really should let it go. Mrs. Lovett was the one who told me of my darling Lucy's death, her suicide. Lucy is the reason why I am seeking revenge on the Judge for ever laying a finger on her. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be drenched in his blood right now.

Movement grabs my attention and momentarily snaps me out of my thoughts. It's Lillianna. She shifts herself and turns her head the other way, contentedly. The sweet aroma of chocolate and cherry meets my nose.

I then realize I can never concentrate on sorting my thoughts with her intoxicating scent and beauty so near to me.

I carefully, gently get up and replace her on the bed. She looks so at peace; so like an angel.

I go to my shoppe. There, my head is clearer. I stare at my photos of Johanna and Lucy for who knows how long. I recall the day's earlier happenings: how I threatened Lillianna, how she hit her head hard on the wall with an oddly gratifying thud…

An idea strikes me. I look up from the photographs, gaze at the broken mirror, then to my chair. What if it was an ingenious contraption that helped mine and Mrs. Lovett's plan? What if I could turn this old, simple chair into a bloody death trap?

I quietly search the house for old tools that used to belong to Albert and I- uh, Benjamin Barker. I begin to saw and screw and modify. I work laboriously for hours, surprised that no one has stirred from the noise. All the while, I'm lost in a whirlwind of my own thoughts.

My traitorous thoughts drift to Lillianna. She is a wondrous lady, she is. I guess one could call her my guardian angel, though. She always is looking out for me.

She is beautiful, as well, with her compassionate, inviting hazel eyes and gentle, yet assertive nature.

One could also conclude that she is the only remaining light in my life. She helps me get through the hardest of times; she helps me forget, if only for a moment.

What am I thinking? My life, my world was and will always be centered around Lucy, my beautiful wife, my daughter, and my revenge on the two bloody bastards that ruined my family. I should not be thinking of Lillianna like that. I couldn't possibly lo- l- l- I can't even _think_ the treacherous word. I simply cannot feel anything for that creature.

I need some gin.

A little voice in the back of my head begins to point out an interesting fact.

"You know, you said when you came back that Benjamin Barker was dead."

"He is dead," I mutter aloud, sawing a plank of wood. "It's Sweeney Todd, now."

"Well, 'your darling, Lucy' was married to Benjamin Barker, not Sweeney Todd. In all technicalities, she's not yours anymore."

The barber is left speechless at this revelation and he pauses his work to listen to what this other part of his mind has to say.

"Lucy was married to the kind man Benjamin Barker. Then, out of greed, he was sent away to bloody Australia with the bloody hot sun and the bloody kangaroos! Whilst imprisoned in that hell hole, that bastard of a Judge raped Lucy and because of the trauma she was in, she killed herself. Once the Judge knew of her death, he came and took Benjamin's daughter, Johanna and adopted her as his own. Well, sometime while poor little Benny was imprisoned for those long, fifteen years, he eventually lost it, died, and was reborn as a whole new man named Sweeney Todd and this man was indifferent, cold-hearted, and hell bent on getting revenge for being put in that hell hole. Memories faded and Lucy's image was long gone from his mind. Only when you escaped was some hope reborn. You assumed that now you were free, you could find your – what you hoped – faithful wife, Lucy and beautiful daughter waiting for you and ready to take you back with open arms. It had been, what, nine years since you last thought of them? When you got to this pitiful excuse for a pie shoppe and learned that that was not the case, you were officially a new man. No connections with the Barkers, yet hell-bent on avenging them. Best of all, with the new man, the new state of mind, came a new girl, a beautiful girl who is not afraid to stand up to you. Besides, it's as she said. They're dead. Move on and be happy like they probably want you to do."

"I won't betray my-"

_"SHE'S NOT YOUR WIFE ANYMORE, YOU BLOODY IDIOT! THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO EXPLAIN!"_

I shake the voice away as my train of thought takes a new direction. Thinking of Lucy, thinking of what had happened to her brings me to another thought. Am I just as bad as the Judge?

"Think about it, Sweeney. Turpin raped a beautiful, innocent woman. What you just did with Lillianna is not that different. Sure, she _said _she was alright with it and she complied…even looked as if she even enjoyed it! The fact remains…"

**"Well, mate, we have to consider Devil's Island,"** another part of my mind justifies. **"Just think for a moment. The only thing that has touched you in 15 years would be a whip and some salt water. Sure, there's Lovett, but she's obsessive and you think of her only as an old friend, nothing more. You haven't made love in that long a time, as well. In fact, I didn't know you were still capable to feel some of the things you felt when you were with Lillianna."**

My confusing, arguing and justifying whirl of thoughts overwhelm me. I try to push every single, wandering thought out of my mind. My head is finally clear just as I finish my work.

I stand back and admire the finished chair, a cup of tea in hand. What used to be a simple chair is now a complex, death machine where many will soon loose their lives.

**_Lillianna's POV_**

Light filters through my window, waking me. Even before I open my eyes, memories of yesterday flood my mind. I lift my eyelids. I expect to see Sweeney Todd next to me, but the only thing that meets me is air.

_"The bloody coward must have left in the middle of the night."_

I get up, get dressed, and head downstairs for breakfast. Nellie is wiping down the counter and Sweeney is sitting at his usual booth drinking a glass of gin. Neither of them notices me.

After what happened last night, I feel a certain awkwardness between Sweeney and I. Although, if he will pretend for Mrs. Lovett that nothing happened between us, then I will do the same.

I make my presence known to them by making a decision. "I've thought long and hard about everything," I begin as their heads snap towards the interruption, "and I have decided that I will be staying and, if need be, I will help with your…scheme."

"Thank you, Lillianna," Nellie gushes. "I knew you'd come around. I know you can be a big help!"

Something suddenly strikes me. "You said my real name," I realize. I look around to confirm my suspicions. "Where's Toby?"

"Oh, him? You know Toby. The boy drinks like a sailor. He's still fast asleep, don't worry."

"Anyways, before I came, I used to be a seamstress. If you so desire my services, I would be happy to modify the clothes not only for us, but also to sell."

"We were just going to burn them, but your idea works just as well, dear," Nellie says.

I smile and glance over at Sweeney, who pensively takes a sip from his cup. He remains indifferent throughout the whole of the conversation, almost as if we're ghosts to him and he can't even hear or see us. Before I can say anything more, Nellie leads me downstairs to the bake house where Pirelli now lies.

**A/N: I have but one question before you go. When my one friend read the Sweeney's POV, she said he was being a brat. What do you think?**


	13. Respect

I sit in my room with Pirelli's fur cloak. I wonder what I could do to make it unrecognizable – not many people in this part of London own fur capes. I already took the purple silk out of the inside and made it into a dress that I am wearing at the moment.

A strange melody floods my ears and brings me out of my thoughts. I listen intently. It's Sweeney singing. I try to make out the words.

"…beautiful and pale the way I've dreamed you were, Johanna."

_"Of course. He's singing about his daughter,"_ I realize. _"It is a beautiful song, sung by a beautiful man with a beautiful voice."_

I mentally scold myself for thinking such thoughts. Though it was never voiced, we decided to forget what happened that night everyone lost their minds.

It goes on like this for about a week. I sew in my room, Nellie cleans the shoppe, and Sweeney sings his lament, the occasional, gratifying crunch of him dispatching a victim interrupting the otherwise sweet melody.

One evening, Nellie is busy in the bake house, so I take it upon myself to bring Sweeney his dinner. For once, I go up the external stairs. The window is ajar and he is with a customer, so I wait until he is finished. In the meanwhile, I listen to his song.

"You stay, Johanna, the way I've dreamed you are. Oh, look, Johanna, a star…a shooting star!"

When I hear the mechanical chair tilt back and the skull of the customer crack on the bake house floor, I knock on the door. "Come in, Lillianna," is the muffled, gruff reply. I open the door to see Mr. Todd sitting on his own barber chair. He is slouched with his feet on either side of the footrest.

"How did you know it was me?" I ask, setting the tray on the chest. I turn, close the door and take the liberty of turning the "open" sign to "closed."

"You knocked," the barber answered simply. "Mrs. Lovett constantly comes barging in without an announcement."

I giggle at the comment, although I knew he said it in a very irked and serious manner. "I brought you some dinner." He doesn't make a move. He utters not a sound. "Aren't you hungry? You know, I got you a meat pie." He grimaces. "Not the original, the new and improved pies. I tried one and it's not so bad."

"I thought you didn't approve of our cannibalistic ways," he says with a small smirk.

"Well, I thought about it long and hard and said to myself, 'If you can't beat them, join them!'" I reply. He doesn't seem convinced. "They're better then roaches and lard, I can give you that." He remains indifferent. "You need to eat. I'll not have you passing out on the job." He doesn't respond and I get agitated.

I walk to the front of the chair, suppress a sudden, forbidden urge and corner him, placing each hand on each armrest. He seems shocked and slightly impressed at my sudden approach.

"Mr. Todd," I begin, letting my frustration out, "I know this is awkward what with the things that happened last Tuesday, but that doesn't mean you have to avoid me. You can't hide forever."

"I'm not hiding from anything or anyone."

"You're lying," I accuse.

He grabs his razor and rests it on my neck. My breath catches in my throat, but I conceal it well. "I do not have to answer to you. You obviously have no respect for your superiors."

I whack his hand away before responding with, "It is not a lack of respect, but merely an excess of will and courage to stand up for one's self and what one believes is correct."

"Either way," he counters, replacing the silver blade under my jaw, "a woman, such as yourself, should not talk like that, especially to someone who can so easily-" The blade nips my skin, creating a rivulet of blood, and I suppress the gasp building up in my throat. "-hurt you."

"You wouldn't," I whisper knowingly with a small smirk. "You don't want to see me hurt. I have a notion that sometimes, you really care about me, but you suppress it with ignorance as often as you can."

"The only woman I could ever care about is Lucy," he says, putting pressure on the razor, ready to make a home in my soft flesh.

"You're lying, not only to me, but yourself as well," I say simply. Before he can hurt me further, I stand erect. I shake my head slowly, a look of fondness on my face. "You just keep telling yourself that, darling," I whisper in his ear as I pass him. I don't look back, but I feel him glaring daggers at me as I exit the barber shoppe.


	14. Reopening

The next day, Nellie's shoppe is filled with customers. Honestly, I can say that I never even dreamed there could be so many people crammed into my cousin's shoppe and devouring her meat pies.

I hear Toby singing outside, attracting even more customers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention puh-lease? Are your nostrils a-quiver, and tingling as well, at that delicate, luscious, ambrosial smell? Yes, they are, I can tell. Well, ladies and gentlemen, that aroma enriching the breeze is nothing compared to its succulent source, as the gourmets among you will tell you, of course. Ladies and gentlemen, you can't imagine the rapture in store…just inside of this door!"

He continues singing as he comes in and helps Nellie and I make and serve the pies. "There you'll sample Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies, savory and sweet pies, as you'll see. You who eat pies, Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies conjure up the treat pies used to be."

"Toby!" Nellie calls.

"Coming!" he replies.

"Ale there," she instructs.

"Right, mum."

Nellie begins to mingle with the customers. I continue my work, but I'm only half there mentally. Toby's reply really touches me. It's sweet that he's grown so close to us…save for Mr. Todd; he's suspicious and terrified of Sweeney.

I am brought back to reality by Nellie yelling, "Toby, throw the old woman out!" He starts to shoo a woman in ragged clothes. I feel pity for the poor lady.

"What's her secret?" a man asks me as I refill his glass with gin.

"What's her secret?" I repeat. "Frankly, dear – forgive my candor – family secret all to do with herbs. Things like being careful with your coriander, that's what makes the gravy grander," I lie.

Toby, Nellie, and I harmonize and sing, "Eat them slow and feel the crust, how thin I/she rolled it. Eat them slow 'cause every one's a prize. Eat them slow 'cause that's the lot and now we've sold it. Come again tomorrow."

"Hold it!" Nellie yells. A man walks up the stairs to Mr. Todd's shoppe. Only Nellie, Sweeney and I know what would happen next. "Bless my eyes!" she exclaims, excitement and unadulterated anxiousness clouds her eyes. Sweeney greets the man with an evil smile. How naïve these people are! "Fresh supplies!" Nellie announces.

She heads to another customer, who is calling her over. "How about it, dearie? Be here in a twinkling. Just confirms my theory. Toby!" She motions for Toby to hand her some money. Once it is in her possession, she looks up to Sweeney and winks. "God watches over us. Didn't have an inkling, positively eerie. Toby, throw the old woman out!" she screams a second time.

I grab a spare pie and go to the beggar woman. "Here you go," I say softly. "Have a nice, juicy meat pie. Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, bless you ma'am, bless you. You are a kind one, indeed. Yes," she answers.

"Gin, tea, water, anything strike your fancy?" I ask politely.

"Anything is a blessing."

In the time it takes me to pour her a glass of ale, she devours the pie. "Here you go."

She drinks it down. "Thank you, ma'am, thank you! You are a true Christian indeed."

"'Twas nothing, love. If you need anything else, come to me. I'll take good care of you."

I turn and hear her miserable pleas, "Alms! Alms!"


	15. Seaside

A week later, Sweeney, Nellie, Toby, and I go out. With his tips, Toby buys a kite. I teach him how to fly it while Nellie and Mr. Todd discuss business.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nellie kissing Sweeney on the cheek repetitively. Much to my satisfaction, he harshly glares ahead, staring into space.

Occasionally, some of her words reach me, even through the wind. "Life I covet…you and me…alone in a house what we'd almost own…"

The kite then gets caught in the big willow tree, above Nellie and Mr. Todd. Try as I might, I can't get the bloody thing down. During my struggle, I hear my cousin saying things; Things that upset me, but shouldn't.

"Think how snug it'll be underneath our flannel when it's just you and me and the English Channel. In our cozy retreat, kept all neat and tidy, we'll have chums over every Friday."

I finally get the kite loose, but it does nothing to brighten my spirits. Toby and I fly the kite a while longer, but soon, he suggests stopping. "Let's sit down with Mrs. Lovett." Grudgingly, I oblige to the boy's wishes. Toby sits on Mrs. Lovett's left; I sit to Sweeney's right. My desperate cousin still continues to ramble about how much she wants to be with the man I - uh, the man we work with – for the rest of her life, happily married like a proper family. She doesn't seem to realize that "normal family" just won't happen with a serial murderer and his desperate accomplice who both sing about their wants and needs – most of which, they never agree on with Sweeney wanting revenge for his beloved wife and daughter, and Nellie wanting Sweeney to herself.

"By the sea," she continues. "Don't you love the weather? By the sea we'll grow old together. By the seaside, by the beautiful sea!"

"It'll be so quiet that who'll come by it except a seagull? We shouldn't try it, though, 'till it's legal for two, but a seaside wedding could be devised, my rumpled bedding legitimized. My eye lids will flutter, I'll turn into butter, the moment I mutter I do!"

My rising rage shatters to hurt as I hear the last two words slash through my ears like Sweeney's razors, but hurting more than his silver friends ever could. It breaks my heart to think he would marry my cousin. A tear rolls down my cheek; everyone is too ignorant to notice.

"Down by the sea," Nellie sighs. I spy Mr. Todd put his hand on her thigh and it's worse than hearing him say, "I do." "Married nice and proper by the sea. Bring along your chopper. To the seaside, by the beautiful sea!"


	16. Seduction

It is late when we get home. I am still upset as to what I heard during our little outing. Once I am through the door, I head for the back room and grab a bottle of gin. I uncork it with my teeth while grabbing a glass with my free hand. I fill the glass halfway and drink it down.

_"Ow! Burning throat!"_

It stings as it goes down. My face contorts into a grimace.

"Not much of a gin drinker, I suppose," comes the heart-wrenching, gruff voice.

"I try to refrain from doing such. However, this is a time when I am in dire need," I explain.

"How so? What makes now different from any other time?" Todd asks.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I state icily. He senses the venom behind the words and decides – for once – to simply go upstairs and leave me to my drink.

"I am curious, as well, as to why you need to drink this moment. You can tell me anything, dearie," Nellie says comfortingly.

"Do you mind if I have some?" Toby asks.

I grab the bottle protectively and glare at the boy. He is scared, I can tell. Nellie sends him to bed, as it is getting late. She repeats her question.

"Let's just say…I drink when I want to forget my worries."

"You harping on your husband? Bloody…I swear, you're just like Mr. T! Always mourning on your wrongs…"

I quickly down a second glass in a single gulp and give her a look that clearly states "Leave me and my bloody gin alone!"

I don't know how long I stay there, staring into space, and drinking glass after glass. I only stop when my vision begins to blur, and my head starts to ache…plus, I ran out of gin. Apparently, one bottle is more than enough for me.

I decide to head to bed. I climb the stairs. When I reach the landing, I take a peek into Sweeney's shoppe.

There he is, sitting in his barber chair, like he always does with his legs on either side of the foot rest. He looks so sexy, just staring out the window.

"Oh, Lillianna," he whispers upon spotting me. "Could you spare me a moment of your time? I wish to speak with you."

I try my best to walk in a straight line towards him. "Yes?" I slur.

"I – Are you alright?" he asks, truly concerned.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because your speech is slurred, you can't walk straight, I saw you drinking earlier and you're looking at me oddly."

"How am I looking at you oddly?" I inquire innocently.

"Like – As if – Lustfully," he replies.

"Now, Sweeney, I think you may be imagining things," I say, leaning closer to his mouth. I start to slowly bring my legs up to straddle him. "Why don't you just-" He puts a hand to my mouth, keeping me at bay. I lick and kiss his fingers, but he pulls away.

"Lillianna, exactly how much gin did you drink?" he asks, suspicious and wary.

"I only drank a bottle," I say with nothing but seriousness.

"A whole bottle? You're not even a frequent drinker!" he exclaims. "Gin is strong stuff." He stands both of us up. "I'll get you to bed."

"Just what I was thinking," I say coyly, winking mischievously.

"Not like that," he says sternly. He leads me across the hall and into my room. Sweeney helps me onto the bed and turns to leave.

"Where are you going? Don't go," I plead.

"I'm not watching you change into your nightgown," he answers.

"I don't mind."

"No," he says firmly. "If you really want me to stay, call me back in when you're done changing, but no games." I nod my head in understanding.

After I peel my layers off and slide into my slip, I call to him. "I'm decent!" I just hope he keeps his word.

Sure enough, Mr. Todd strides in a moment later. He sits on a chair.

"No, with me," I object. He glares at me sternly. "Please?" I plead, sounding like a little girl. He sighs in defeat and crawls into bed in front of me. He positions so that his back is to me. "Sweeney, please look at me."

He rolls over and we gaze into each other's eyes. I lean in closer…closer…closer. Sweeney grasps my shoulder, preventing me from moving any nearer. He glares once more. I lower my head in shame. He softens and rolls his eyes. Hesitantly, Sweeney's arms wrap around my waist. I look up with a smile of gratitude for him, but he is staring straight ahead.

"Please don't leave me alone in the middle of the night again." When I say this, his eyes don't even flicker in my direction. "That was pretty cowardly, I think," I add. His mouth twitches, but he says nothing. "I don't want you to leave me because…well…I love you."

His eyes widen slightly. **"It's the gin talking,"** he justifies. **"Remember, she's drunk. She knows not what she says."**

Without another word, Sweeney pulls me right up against him. He places his chin atop my head, continuing to stare hard into space. I rest my hands and head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart lulls me to sleep, but not before I think I hear an almost inaudible, "I love you, too."


	17. Terrorize

I wake, cloaked in warmth as the sunlight brightens my room. My head aches to the point where I feel as if it would split any second. I moan and groan as I try to pry my protesting eyelids open.

When my lashes finally do separate, I am hit by a wave of vertigo as I stare into a familiar chest. The feeling that I'm being watched washes over me. I look up to see Sweeney Todd gazing down at me, expressionless. I open my mouth to say something, but bile quickly rises. I lean over the edge of the bed and vomit.

"Wh-what are you doing here? What happened?" I ask as I turn back to the barber.

He smirks as he answers. "You drank a whole bottle of gin for a reason I still don't know. On your way to your room, I wished to talk to you, but I noticed something was off. You then attempted to seduce me." I blush. "I stopped you and took you to your room whereupon you attempted to seduce me yet again and begged me to stay with you in the bed and here we are."

Heat steadily increases in my cheeks. "Why do you not have your shirt on? We didn't- you didn't let- I-"

"No, nothing happened, no matter how much you wanted it to. I wouldn't let you have your way, but do you honestly know how hot it gets when you're fully clothed, underneath a blanket and with someone in your arms?"

I chuckle. "Why _did_ you stay? Did I really look _that _pathetic?"

"Not at all. I- uh…I forgot to tell you something. You also said that you…loved me." My breath catches in my throat and my heart skips a beat. "I dismissed it, though. It was just the gin talking."

"The gin. Yes." I feel a mixture of scared, guilty, sad, and happy all at the same time. I don't even know why I feel all that. Maybe… "Sweeney, I don't think-"

"Mr. T? Lillianna?" comes Nellie's call, interrupting what I am about to say.

"That bloody woman," Todd mutters.

My spirits briefly soar at his words in spite of my protests.

"Mr. T? Lillianna, where are you?" Sweeney scrambles out of bed and grabs his shirt and vest. "Mr. T, what are you doing in here?" she asks, entering the room. She spies his bare chest in awe, then suspicion veils her face. "What's going on, here?"

Sweeney quickly cooks up a lie. "Well, Lillianna is in the midst of a nasty hangover from her late-night gin. I was getting into my new shirt and vest when she called me in. She was so confused. We also talked about some other things."

"What other things?" Nellie inquires. I am just as confused and wary as she is, but more vomiting forces me to stay silent, as I knew I should.

"If at all possible, I will try to get Mr. Hunnington to come to my shoppe and get a shave." He glances at me conspiratorially.

"Yes," I agree, going along with his story. The loyal, determined look in his eyes tells me that he is speaking the truth; I _will_ get my revenge. "Although, _I_ would like to do the honors of ending his miserable life. For me, it will be more satisfying to know he was killed by my hands."

"We might be able to work something out," he replies.

"Lillianna, I never thought you were the vengeful type," Nellie marvels.

"Well, yes, but I haven't been obvious about it, though…" Sweeney's eyes turn serious and dare me to finish the sentence like I did the day I poured my past to him. I hesitate, knowing that he probably has a razor _somewhere_ on him. I know that this time, he would not hesitate to threaten me again. I decide to tease him to see if he can restrain himself somewhat. "…unlike someone _else_ I could mention…" His mouth twitches as he tries to let my jab slide. "…Mr. Todd…" He loses his temper and pins me to the bed. He straddles my hips as one hand stabilizes himself, the other around my neck. He lacks a razor at the moment, but his hand is sufficient enough to put me in my grave.

"A woman, such as yourself, should not test me," he growls. "I would not hesitate to take your life this moment."

"Mr. T!" Nellie yells, trying to pull him off of me. My hands are scrabbling at his hand, attempting to pry each finger off. It comes to no avail. "Mr. T, you really shouldn't do this! And you were getting along so well!" she cries.

"Must I have a woman's blood on my hands so early in the morning?" he continues, unaffected by Nellie's desperate pleas and feeble attempts at rescuing me. Pressure builds in my head and I can't think clearly. The pain from the hangover blends with the pain from lack of air and blood flow. "Do you wish to live to see nightfall?" I nod and he dramatically removes his hand from neck. He smirks as he shrugs Nellie off of him, so he must have left marks. I gasp for air and throw up over the edge of my bed. Frazzled, Nellie leads the demonic barber out of my room. After, she comes back with a bucket and a mop to clean up my mess. I won't be drinking gin again anytime too soon.

In defiance of Nellie's protests, I later clean the tables for the crowd that would come for the noontime rush. In the meantime, she goes to give Mr. Todd his breakfast.

Not long after, Anthony runs through the area to Mr. Todd's shoppe, yelling, "I've found her! Mr. Todd, I found her!"

Moments later, he rushes back down, followed by Nellie. "Toby," she says, "Mr. Todd needs you."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies. I make to follow him, but Nellie holds me back.

"Mr. T said 'Toby,'" she reminds me sternly. "Besides, I don't think you should go after what happened not even an hour ago."

"I don't care. He's even more irrational with the boy, so I'm going. Who knows? It might even help us get on good terms."

"I wouldn't count on it," she mutters. I ignore it and turn to see Toby waiting for me. We enter Todd's shoppe together.

"Mr. T?" Toby says, grabbing his attention.

"Do you know where the Old Bailey is?" he asks, not looking up from the piece of parchment in his hands.

"Yes, sir, not that I've ever been there," Toby replies.

"Take this there," Sweeney orders, giving him a letter. "Seek out a Judge Turpin. Repeat that."

"Go to Old Bailey. Find Judge Turpin."

"You are to put that into his hands. Only to him, do you understand?" Sweeney asks.

"Yes, sir, and while I'm out, do you mind if I stop by the grocer just to pick up-"

"No," Todd objects, advancing on the boy. "You are not to stop. You are not to speak. Do you understand?"

Toby nods vigorously and runs out of the shoppe. "Sure. Just terrorize the poor boy," I say sarcastically. He looks at me for the first time since I entered. He says nothing. "You know, I was only having a little fun with you this morning, merely teasing you. You didn't have to explode. I'm sorry, though. I probably should have held my tongue."

"No. _I'm_ sorry. I was being irrational." He takes a few steps towards me. "Are you alright?" He touches my neck lightly. My pulse races…and he feels it. "I don't mean to scare you." My stomach flip-flops at his momentary kindness.

Nothing feels right at this moment, only awkward. I lightly brush his hand away. "It's fine. I'm fine." I remember some things from the past 24 hours. "You never answered me this morning. Why did you stay?"

"What were you about to say when Mrs. Lovett interrupted you?" he counters.

"Touché."

"You also never told me why you drank a whole bottle of gin," he continues.

"What did you want to talk to me about last night?" He falls still and silent at my question.

"We'll talk later. I don't want to talk about it now."

"Sweeney, _please_ stop avoiding me and my questions," I plead.

He doesn't say a word; he only turns around and takes his place at the window. I purse my lips and exit. Therefore, I do not hear him breathe, "What I should have said all along…"


	18. Revenge

The dinner rush is unbearable without Toby's help. All the while, I hear Mr. Todd pacing upstairs.

When it's all over, I offer to wash dishes. Nellie welcomes my suggestion with open arms. After about 15 minutes, Nellie and Toby walk by.

"Toby, I didn't hear you come back. Where were you all day? We had quite the rush at dinnertime," I inform.

"Sorry ma'am."

"So, where are you going now?" I ask.

"Mrs. Lovett is showing me the bake house!" he exclaims.

With my eyes only, I ask Nellie, "Why are you taking him there?" I know what all lies beyond the door and all three of us vowed never to let anyone see it, for fear of being found out.

Her answer for now is an apologetic, sad look. Her eyes meaningfully turn to Toby, then, back to me. I'm not quite sure what she means by her response, but I could speculate. Nellie leads Toby to the bake house entrance and I finish up the dishes. Nellie soon returns and we are able to talk freely.

"Why did you take him there? Where is he now? What is going on?" I question ceaselessly.

"Toby suspects Mr. T. I had to lock him in. If he escapes, he'll go to the law." The news hits me and terminates my endless flow of inquiries.

"We must…" I trail off, not being able to even think.

"Yes. We must kill him," she finishes. "I despise the idea as much as you, but it's the only way." We head upstairs to inform Mr. Todd of the plan. On the way down, Nellie is spouting off her usual babble. "I've got him locked in, but if he escapes, he'll go to the law."

"He won't escape," he assures, determined on killing the boy.

"I don't know, Mr. T-" She is stopped short by spying two figures in the door way. We are both extremely startled for two different reasons. Nellie jumps, while I freeze. "Sorry. You gave me a fright."

"Not my intention, good madam, I assure you," the Beadle says with a voice as greasy as his hair.

In the meanwhile, I position myself slightly behind Mr. Todd so as to not draw any attention to me. The man behind the beadle stays quiet the whole time until Todd finally gets the Beadle to come to his shoppe. Mr. Todd moves and puts me in plain sight. The man's eyes brighten in recognition while mine brighten in fear. I put my head down, but not before Sweeney sees the moisture welling up behind my eye lids. "You, sir, will be next," he says to the man.

"Lillianna? I don't believe it. I've searched all of Newcastle for you!" the man says.

"Who?" I quickly ask the familiar lawyer. "I am not she. My name is Jasmine Churovia. I was hired by Mrs. Lovett here as a waitress. Who, may I ask, are you?" I already knew the answer, but, considering the circumstances, it must be said.

"Charles Hunnington," he replies silkily, grabbing my hand and gently kissing it. His lips reveal a dazzling smile.

_"There he goes, turning on the charm factor. It makes me sick."_

"Come, sit with me. Have a drink."

"I'd rather not, you see-"

"I insist."

_"He always _was_ the persistent type…especially with me."_

"Save me!" I whisper-plead to Mrs. Lovett as he drags me to a booth. She only replies with a sad, sympathetic smile.

He begins asking me things about myself and boasting. I restrain myself from grabbing the pot on the counter and hitting him over the head with it.

All of a sudden, there is a loud thump. I smile. "I think Mr. Todd may be ready for you."

"Please accompany me," he asks.

"Of course."

We enter Todd's shoppe and he welcomes us. He instructs Charles to sit. As Sweeney begins to lather the disgusting, loathsome man, I grab one of Sweeney's razors. I look in the broken mirror to see if I am caught. Nope. The whole while, Charles has his head back and his eyes closed. I sneak up on him. Mr. Todd places the lather on the vanity and watches, amused.

"Look at me." I order. He turns his head to see me standing over him, the razor held high. "You bastard." Before he has a chance to react, I plunge the blade into his throat, sending a stream of rubies straight into my eyes. "That one's for Gregory!" I stab his neck again, turning it half way. "That one's for Cassandra!" I stab him twice more. "If I can't kill you, no one can," I hiss. His eyes widen, knowing I lied to him about who I was. I walk behind him and sink the silver blade into the delicate flesh of his neck. The razor claims its home as I bring it around, sinking it deep. I do it slowly, looking upside down into the eyes that belonged to the man that stole my life away from me, my world, my husband, my child. I want to see the lights leave his eyes as he succumbs to the dark abyss…death. Just as the eyes begin to glaze over, I stomp on the pedal. By my guessing, he hits the ground (or the Beadle, I should say) head first just before death overtakes him.

Mr. Todd looks at me with an approving expression. We hear Toby yelling down in the bake house through the still open trap door, begging Mrs. Lovett to let him out. Mr. Todd gives me a determined look before rushing out, me close on his heels.

Sweeney, you really shouldn't. I have a bad feeling about this," I complain as he is about to go into the bake house to kill Toby.

"It's alright, love. I'll be back before you know it." He quickly brushes my lips with his. He takes my state of shock as an opportunity to take his leave. I wait anxiously, waiting for him and Nellie to come back.

I pace back and forth in Nellie's shoppe, reminding me of Mr. Todd. Soon, he comes in.

"Oh, Mr. Todd, I was so worried. Did you-?" He cuts me off by claiming my lips with his. I am startled, but I soon respond. He begins to lead me backwards. I have no idea where. He kisses down my jaw and to my neck. I close my eyes and moan in pleasure.

"Step," he alerts. I step up backwards. This goes on until we reach the landing. His left arm continues to secure me to him as his right snakes around me and opens my bedroom door.

He replaces his lips on mine. I inhale the sweet honey smell. Sweeney's tongue slips between my lips. The moment I begin to open my mouth, He slips inside. I feel him smile slightly into the kiss. Our tongues fight for dominance as he backs me into the bed.

I grab hold of his shirt and pull him to me. I plop down onto the bed, pulling him with me. He supports himself by placing his hands by my shoulders.

I get caught up in the passion, but I am suddenly able to think clearly…and there's only one thought on my mind…

_"I think I really- I just might- I think I lo-"_


	19. Trickery

All my emotions are sorted out. I finally know and openly admit what I feel for the man on top of me. I am gripping his shirt and he is bent over me as we lay on the bed. Out tongues are fighting for dominance. I succumb to Sweeney's kiss.

_"I think I really- I just might- I think I lo-"_

My tongue gently caresses his and my arms wrap around his neck.

My thoughts and actions are interrupted as Sweeney abruptly tears himself from my grip with ease. He walks briskly to my door. I sit in shock, unable to comprehend anything. Am I dreaming?

I realize he is leaving me; He tricked me! I run to the door as he shuts it. My fists pound the wood of the door. "Sweeney! Sweeney, open up! What are you doing?" I shout. I did not hear a click, so I realize the bloody barber is probably only leaning against the other side. I know that, despite his thin body, he is much stronger and can easily over power me.

"Sorry, love. I hate to do this, but it's for your own good. The Judge is coming soon and I don't want him to wonder about Charles finding 'Lillianna.' And I don't want any interruptions when I end his life," he adds in an under tone. I hear the fateful click.

"Sweeney, unlock this door! You open this bloody door right now!" He must have left, for he never responds. "Sweeney!" I shriek, giving up. "Bloody barber," I mutter. I jiggle the handle a few times to no avail. Then, an idea comes to mind.

I can pick the lock!

I search my room for my sewing kit. I find it in the back of one of my drawers. I search for a pin just as I hear a blood-curdling scream.

"Nellie!"

I search more frantically and dash to the lock. I hear footsteps – Sweeney's – pass on the other side of the door. I quickly unlock it and sprint down the stairs to the bake house. I see Sweeney and I would yell at him for locking me in my room, but right now, all I feel is worry for my cousin.

I see several bodies on the floor, so I stay back and out of their view.

"Why did you scream?" Mr. Todd asks immediately. I just now notice that he is drenched in blood. His hair, his face, his clothes, his razor are all dripping with the scarlet liquid. I, at least, had the decency to wash my face after he went to kill Toby.

_"Where is he, anyway? Did Sweeney even get a chance to kill him?"_

"He was clutching, holding on to my dress, he's finished now," Nellie replies, dragging a body towards the oven.

"Open the door. Open the door, I said," Todd growls, pushing her off.

She nervously walks to the oven, her eyes never leaving Sweeney. The light illuminates a familiar face. It's the beggar woman!


	20. Abyss

Sweeney spies the beggar woman's corpse. He looks at it curiously and goes to examine her further. He pulls back a lock of her hair and she seems familiar to me, as well.

_"She's- No. It can't be…can it?"_

"'Don't I know you?' she said," Sweeney breathes as realization hits both of us: he killed his wife. He looks near tears. "You knew she lived," he whispers to Mrs. Lovett, referring to Lucy. I never knew that such a simple sentence could contain so many strong emotions; regret, guilt, accusing, and most of all unadulterated anger and ferocity are present in his tone. I know that he is probably close to making his razor another home in her soft, pale flesh.

"I was only thinking of you," she says sadly. This time, I know it's one hundred percent genuine.

"You lied to me," he accuses quietly, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"No, no! Not lied at all. No, I never lied," Nellie insists, advancing on him with a small spark of hope in her eyes.

"Lucy," Sweeney laments, turning his attention back to the corpse of his wife.

"I said she took a poison. She did. I never said that she died," she justifies.

"I've come home again," Sweeney continues, ignoring Nellie.

"Poor thing! She lived, but it left her weak in the head. All she did for months was just lie there in bed," she explains.

"Lucy!"

"Should have been in hospital wound up in Bedlam instead, poor thing!"

"Oh, my God!" he yells, rising.

"Better you should think she was dead. Yes, I lied because I love you! I'd be twice the wife she was," Nellie speaks boldly.

"Lucy," he sings.

"I love you!"

"What have I done?" Sweeney asks himself. At this point, Nellie is right behind him. He holds out the note while gazing down at his wife, who died – not by her own hand – but her dear husband's.

"Could that thing have cared for you like me?"

He suddenly spins around, facing her with a sadistic glow in his ebony eyes. "Mrs. Lovett," he advances on her, amusement coming into play with his features, probably from her horrified expression. The terrified baker backs up and corners herself against the wall. "You're a bloody wonder, eminently practical and yet appropriate, as always. As you've said repeatedly there's little point in dwelling on the past!"

"Do you mean it?" she asks.

"No, come here, my love." He motions for her, but she doesn't budge.

"Everything I did I swear, I thought was only for the best," she continues frantically, fearing for her life.

"Not a thing to fear, my love," he assures.

"Believe me!" she pleads. "Can we still be married?"

"What's dead is dead," Todd answers simply. The history of the world, my pet-" he starts, bringing her into a waltz. This seems so out of character for him and I am confused…and suspicious.

"Oh, Mr. Todd, oh, Mr. Todd, leave it to me," she swoons, warming up to him. I know for a fact that something is wrong with this picture.

"-is learn forgiveness and try to forget."

"By the sea, Mr. Todd, we'll be comfy-cozy. By the sea, Mr. Todd, where there's no one nosy."

"And life is for the alive, my dear. So let's keep living it!" he shouts. I suddenly realize something.

_"He's waltzing her-"_

"Just keep living it!" they sing together. Nellie appears as if she couldn't be happier. While Mr. Todd has a smile on his face, it contains malice, not genuity. His dark eyes harden in determination and his muscles contract.

_"-closer to the-"_

"Really living it!" he growls. He throws her in through the open oven door.

_"-oven!"_

She begins to scream from flames licking her Sweeney prevents an attempt at escaping by closing and locking the door. He looks in the small window with a disgusted sneer, admiring his work. Tears rolls freely down my cheeks and my sobs are lost to the sounds of her screaming.

If Nellie hadn't lied, he would have come back to a wife. Well, he did, but if she hadn't lied, he would have been different.

He closes the cover to the window. Sweeney then turns to Lucy. The silver razor that never left his hand falls to the floor with a metallic clatter. He walks and kneels beside his dear, departed wife. I hang my head in a moment of silence for both Lucy and my dear cousin.

"There was a barber and his wife," Sweeney sings softly. I succumb to his melody and fall into the serenity. "And she was beautiful."

A hushed sound of rusted metal against stone alerts me. My eyes snap open and I lift my head.

Toby crawls out of the sewers, a look of loathing on his face. "A foolish barber and his wife. She was his reason and his life and she was beautiful and she was virtuous…"

Now, Toby is behind him, razor in hand. He stares down at Sweeney Todd with disgust. He is avenging Mrs. Lovett…his mum.

"And he was…" I gasp, knowing what is to come. Toby doesn't hear me, but Sweeney with his sharp ears does. He lifts his head slowly and sees me in my horrified state standing in the doorway. He furrows his brow in confusion. I see Toby's hand move ever so slightly, alerting me that he is about to take the barber's life.

"Tobias, no!" Quick as lightning, I run to shield Sweeney. The rest happens so fast. A sharp pain pierces my neck and I fall to the ground. I manage to roll onto my back and I touch the wound. I look at my now blood-soaked fingertips.

Through my fingers I see Toby staring at me in shock, not meaning to harm me. Using Toby's state his advantage, Sweeney reclaims his friend and ends the boy's life with a flick of his wrist.

Sweeney throws the silver blade to the ground with another metallic clang. He kneels next to me and cradles my head and chest in his strong, bloody arms.

"Lillianna!" he cries. I begin to feel dizzy as the blood drains from my figure. My vision starts to blur. "Lillianna, don't do this to me! Lillianna, stay with me! I can't lose you – not you _and _Lucy!" My eyelids droop with the weight of death. "Lillianna, don't you _dare_ close your eyes! I need you! Say something!"

"Sweeney." It takes most of my energy to say this single word.

"Yes?" he asks, frantic.

"I-" I can't say much more. I am sinking further and further into the black abyss. Death's hands grip me tight, stripping me of life.

"You what? Lillianna, speak to me!"

"I love you." My head falls back as I succumb to the black abyss.


	21. Heaven

_**A/N: This chapter is in Sweeney's point of view. Sorry it took so long for an update. I'm busy with rehearsals for the school musical. I'll try to update more often now. I promise!**_

I gaze down at her body, which falls limp in my arms. Shock, sorrow, and pain are all in my eyes. I am devoid of all hope. Her dying words break my hardened heart.

I realize her feelings are reciprocated. Never breaking my gaze, I realize also that this wondrous woman lying in my arms, who just confessed her feelings for me - a murdering, naive, cold-hearted barber - deserves so much more, so much better. She needs not a man like me in her life...but I know that - no matter how hard I've tried to suppress it - I am undeniably in love with Lillianna. I cannot stand living without her.

To bring us closer together, I decide to do the only thing that might help. Besides, what with the pain I feel now, I welcome death's embrace. Even though this angel is going back to heaven, I will be sent to the fiery depths of hell. Death will not help much, but at least the world will be free of vermin like me. My mission is finished. I no longer serve a purpose.

Unable to tear my eyes from my limp angel, I grope for my razor.

The handle is still warm in my grasp. Just as I place the cool blade at my wrist, ready to slice through the thin, pale flesh, I register soft footsteps. A soothing voice calls out.

"Hello?" a female voice inquires. "Is anybody here?" A woman about Lillianna's age peers through the doorway. She has curly hair, the same shade of Lillianna's. Other than that, and the fact that the woman in my arms is petite, they could be twins.

She sees me with the bloody corpse in my arms. Dead bodies are scattered on the floor. A strange sight for an outsider, I'm sure, and even more terrifying seeing as I am the only living being among them, but not for long.

She freezes and her eyes grow wide. Her skin tone pales several shades and a slight, greenish tint covers her face. I notice she is wearing a snow white dress. Despite weather conditions and dirt, it is immaculate.

"I-I'm sorry. I-" the woman stutters.

"I won't hurt you," I assure. I feel as if I can trust her, as if I know her, but don't. "Who are you?" I ask, regaining my cold nature. "What are you doing here?"

"I am Winifred Elwyn," she says, stepping forward and fear slowly draining, being replaced with a confident calmness. "I heard someone scream."

"Was it really that loud?" I wonder aloud, thinking of the treacherous Mrs. Lovett.

"It was loud enough for me, but I have very sensitive hearing, Plus, I live next door," she explains.

Now, Winifred is standing a mere yard away. She looks down at the woman in my arms and recognition clouds her eyes. Now that she is nearer, I see that she is paler than Lillianna, but not exactly ghost-like. She also has entrancing sea foam green eyes.

I watch the strikingly beautiful woman kneel beside me and examine Lillianna's body. "When did this happen?" Winifred asks, worry and urgency both clear in her tone.

"A mere minute ago," I reply, unsure and confused as to why she sounds so worried.

Winifred purses her lips in thought. She reaches for the hem of her dress, but I stop her.

"What are you doing? What is your relationship with Lillianna Nola?" I inquire.

"We were life-long friends, Lillianna and I. I'm trying to help her. I am but a humble house wife, but I know some remedies. I want to help her. There's a chance if time permits."

She grabs a flour sack in the corner and coats the wound with it. For good measure, she tears the hem of her spotless dress and binds it around Lillianna's neck. I see the gears working and grinding in her mind recalling techniques and remedies. She checks Lillianna's pulse.

At this point, a small spark of hope begins to glow inside of me. I hold Lillianna's head in my hands, keeping it straight, and murmur prayers and encouragement. She may not be able to hear me, but I've since disregarded all things sane. "It's all going to be fine. Lillianna, you'll be ok. I know you will. Just hold on, love. Please."

After performing foreign procedures, Winifred looks to me."The cloth around her neck must be replaced twice a day until it heals. I'll stop by later to give you some gauze from my stores." I nod my head understandingly. She checks Lillianna's pulse again, her brow furrowing in concentration. "It's weak, but a pulse nonetheless. I'll get the gauze. I won't be long," she assures in a soothing tone.

When Winifred returns, I steeled myself against her words. "Here it is. Replace it as instructed." She glances at Lillianna with sorrow in her mystical green eyes. "Keep her head slightly elevated at all times to help the arteries connect and heal." She sighs. "I'm afraid I've done all I can. All we have yet to do is...wait." Winifred gathers her things. "It's too late for the others." I look to the corner with the Judge and Beadle and grimace. I avert my eyes from Lucy for fear of having them overflowing with tears. "I'll try to stop back at regular intervals to check on her progress." With that, she takes her leave.


	22. Love

_**Sweeney's POV**_

Over the next two weeks, I follow Winifred's instructions. She comes every day to check Lillianna's progress...or lack thereof. Nothing has changed since Winifred first stumbled upon us. Her pulse is still weak and she hasn't regained consciousness. It seems only a miracle can save my angel.

Two weeks after, Winifred sits by Lillianna's motionless body for an hour straight. Her hand is delicately placed on Lillianna's, with her eyes closed. Winifred looks at peace.

"It is getting late," she says. She stands up from the chair she was sitting in beside the bed. "You have done well," she compliments with a smile. Something in her eyes makes the grin seem conspiratorial, but I ignore it.

"Thank you." The sides of my mouth twitch, but I am unable to smile. Instead, I look longingly at Lillianna's body.

"Love is a powerful thing. You really love her, don't you?" she asks.

"I do. I love her more than life itself."

"Lillianna or Lucy?" she tests.

_"Wait. I never told her. How would she know?"_

I turn to her. "How-?"

"Never mind," she interrupts. "I'm sure she loves you, too. When she wakes up, she'll be lucky to be with a man like you, Sweeney Todd."

"You sound so sure," I lament, returning my gaze to Lillianna.

"Sweeney," Winifred says, attempting to soothe me again. She places a delicate hand on my back. "I know Lillianna. If she hasn't changed much since the last time I was with her - when she was cognizant, of course - she should be fine. She's young! Plus, underneath her quiet, respectful nature-" I scoff silently. "-beats the heart of a strong, independent woman." She smiles broadly and bids me farewell.

The next day, I abandon all hope. The sun has already set and I am still beside my love.

I pull my friend from my holster and twirl it. The dim candle light dances on it, making the blade smile in a strangely seductive and inviting manner. The coldness of the silver tempts the rubies under my own skin.

"I'm so sorry, Lillianna," I say, mostly to myself. I know she cannot hear me but it feels good to say it, nonetheless. "I never meant to put you in danger. I'm sorry.

"I love you. I should have told you sooner, but I love you, damnit! I didn't even want to admit it to myself. Lucy was my wife and even when I thought she had passed, she still held a part of my heart. You came into my life and... I don't know.

"I've always admired you; Your courage, your kindness, your comfort. I've grown to love everything about you, yet I've put you through so much hurt. Miss Winifred was wrong. You deserve so much more. You are too kind to me and I don't deserve you. You don't need a cruel, sinful man like me in your life."

I press the cool blade against my wrist once more, knowing no one can stop me now. "Goodbye," I breathe.

"Don't leave me," come the whispered words.

I dismiss it as my imagination, but a familiarity in the faint words is enough to make me pause. It sounded like... "You don't need me. I haven't been there for you like you have for me. Please forgive me." I put pressure on the blade, but the mellifluous voice of my memories objects again: the voice of Lillianna.

"Even though you've murdered countless men mercilessly, hurt me continually, and anything else you've done, I do forgive you. How can I not? I love you."

Her voice sounds so close to me, but it can't be... I slowly lift my head to see Lillianna lying on the bed, her eyes open and smiling with all the gentleness possible.


	23. Reunion

**Back to Lillianna's POV**

"How much did you hear?" Sweeney asks, excited and ashamed at the same time.

"Since you pulled out your razor and said, 'I'm so sorry, Lillianna'," I reply, a small smirk playing on my lips. "No matter how bleak things may seem, don't leave me, please," I plead, placing a hand on his cheek. The movement hurts me, as does every other shift and twitch, but the aches I feel from being stiff and near death aren't even a passing thought. Sweeney is the most important thing right now. He carefully places a hand on my shoulder, being careful not to put too much weight on it and avoiding the cloth around my neck. I glance down with my eyes, even though I cannot see it. "Who did this?" I ask. I bite my tongue before I can continue my thought and make him worry, saying, "I thought I was dead for sure."

"Winifred Elwyn. She said you two were friends."

I am overcome with a wave of a strange mix of emotions. They include: horror, joy, awe, and confusion, with a little nausea taunting the edges of my stomach. It obviously shows on my face, for Sweeney stares at me with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong?" Sweeney inquires.

"It couldn't have been Wini. It simply...couldn't possibly...no." I trail off, terrified and unable to comprehend anything. My mind starts to spin.

"What's the matter?"

"It couldn't have been Winifred," I reply in a slightly eerie and catatonic tone. "It is not possible because Wini is...dead. She fell ill and died two years ago."

We stare, shocked at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say. Neither of us say anything for quite sometime as he holds my hand and squeezes it.

After the tension dissolves, Sweeney places a hand on my cheek in reassurance. "Well, you are alive...and that's all that matter to me right now. I love you." This time, his tongue doesn't stumble on the words and his face is the most angelic it's looked for some 15 years.

I place my hand on his, securing it to my face, and respond teasingly, "I love you, too...you bloody barber." He gives me a mock-reproachful look and kisses me tenderly on my forehead.


	24. Epilogue

"Love?" I address. Sweeney and I just got into bed and this has been on my mind for a while. It has been about two months since my last, fatal encounter with his razor.

"Yes, my pet?" he asks, grabbing hold of my hand.

"Lately, I've been thinking... You love me, right?"

"Of course I do." His hands reach then for my face and his features twist in worry. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I assure the barber. "You want to be with me forever, correct?"

"Lillianna," he says warily. "Where is this conversation going?"

"Just answer the question," I insist, slightly snippy.

"Yes, I do," he replies slowly.

"Well, I've been thinking about this for a long time and... Oh, I'll just come out with it. Do you want to get married?"

"I- What?" he starts, astounded at my utter bluntness.

"Love, please don't make me say it again."

"I- I- Of course I want to, but-"

"But what?" I interrupt, feeling desperate.

"I'm just not sure I'm ready, love. Besides, we're not even engaged," he points out.

"But the whole of London believes we are ever since the incident at St. Dunstan's Market. Besides, after all our time together and our feelings for each other, I feel like we've been engaged," I explain.

The barber stares at me intensely for a moment before letting out a quick sigh and smiling. "Alright. We'll do it."

"Good...because I sort of already made some of the arrangements with the local pastor. He'll be happy to wed us. I still need to find a suitable dress, mind you, but we should be able to get married in a month or two. I'm thinking of keeping it quiet and simple."

"Sounds great," he says, enthusiasm not completely present in his tone, unlike mine.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing."

I dismiss it as nervousness, kiss his cheek, and drift off to sleep.

_"How could she have already talked it out with the priest?" _Sweeney Todd thinks. _"The bloody wonder didn't even consult me until now._

_"I don't even want to get married! Well, I do, but it just doesn't seem right. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment. Besides, it's unexpected for me to love anyone other than my dear, departed Lucy, but to remarry? Yikes! And after all the innocent - and not so innocent - blood I've spilt, I hardly think it acceptable for a demon like me to enter a church again."_

Sweeney's chaotic thoughts eventually put him to sleep.

* * *

**Sweeney's POV**

I am still unsure about Lillianna's late night proposition as I finish shaving a man the next morning.

After Toby, I never killed anyone. I have attempted to persuade Lillianna to keep Mrs. Lovett's shoppe as her own, but she still has not come to a decision. She wishes not for me to continue killing innocent men, nor does she wish for the supplies or the shoppe to go to waste. If I remember correctly, after I burned my late wife, I put the Judge's, Toby's, and Beadle's meat into the grinder, in case Lillianna takes over the pie shoppe.

I am snapped out of my thoughts from the ringing bell, alerting me to my next customer. I turn to see the local pastor enter. He is a plump, jolly old fellow with grey hair and sparkling, dark blue eyes.

"Good morning," he greets. "Are you excited about the wedding? She is a fine woman. You're lucky to have her," he says, removing the bonds from his neck.

"Yes, I am quite lucky," I say, trying to hold back the soft, loving tones threatening to marr my voice. "What can I do for you today, sir?"

"Just a shave, Mr. Todd," he replies in his upbeat voice. I lather the man's face, contemplating whether or not I could get away with it, just this one time. On a selfish, habitual impulse, as I place the razor on his skin, I draw it across his neck. Rubies drip onto the floor. I press my foot to the pedal at the base of the chair, sending the priest down to the bake house. As the gratifying crunch of the man's skull reaches my ears, so does a blood curdling scream.

_"Of course. It's just like Lillianna to be down in the bake house just as I send my first kill down in two months."_

Keeping my foot on the pedal, I look down the trap door to see my love's horrified face looking back at me. "Sweeney?" she exclaims in disbelief.

"What, love?" I reply.

She inspects the body at her feet and gasps in shock as she recognizes the man. Lillianna lets out a sound of frustration and glares up at me once more. "If you didn't want to get married, you could have just said so!"

"What, my pet? I can't hear you." I lift my foot off the pedal to close the trap door.

"You can damn well hear me!"she screams up. The floor seals just in time and I begin to rid my razor of its crimson coating.

Footfalls are audible on the stairs outside, ascending quickly. I look up to see Lillianna stride in, grab a razor and attempt to back me into the window, the blade at my neck.

_"I think not."_

I place my blade above her shoulder and back her into the wall behind her. Fear enters her eyes, but it soon vanishes, returning to their original, determined state. One of the many things I love about her is her spunk. At this point, it is not that appealing.

"Don't ever threaten me," I hiss. "Especially with my own blade."

She ignores my warning and applies slight pressure to the razor. I do the same. Lillianna holds her gaze before removing my friend from its traitorous position. "Why would you lie to me?" she asks, tears rising to the edges of her eyes. She's playing the guilt card now. Her moist, hazel eyes get to me. I throw the razor aside and place my hands on her shoulders.

"I didn't want to hurt you," I reply sadly.

"And this didn't?" she exclaims.

"I know. I thought I could take care of it before you found out."

Quite randomly, she says, "I'll take over my cousin's shoppe..._only_ to clean up your mess and under the condition of you killing people whom you know really won't be missed. Understood?"

"It's a deal," I agree. I lean into her, expecting to seal the deal with a kiss, but she continues to speak.

"Speaking of deals and cleaning messes, the reason why I was down in the bake house was because I was scrubbing the floor. All of a sudden, the trap door opens across the room and a bloody body falls to where I was scrubbing mere minutes ago." She sees the "your point is...?" look in my dark eyes and immediately gets to the point. "My point is," she states hotly. "Next time, _you're _scrubbing the bloody floor!" She rips herself out of my grasp and slams the door in my face.

Spending time with me really has rubbed off on her, giving her certain qualities that make her even more similar to me.

I don't like it one bit.


End file.
